The Oddly Normal Life of Charlotte Holmes
by A Young Volcano
Summary: Sherlock Holmes is anything but normal-his daughter, on the other hand, is. She's an utterly normal girl, living in a completely not normal life. How many 13-year-olds do you know that can identify 43 different types of tobacco ash? The only one I know is Charlotte Holmes.
1. A Study In Pink

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything, except Charlotte and any other OC's you see here.**

* * *

"Charlotte, where are my patches?" I held them up, sticking them in his open hand as I walked by the loo.

"They were in your dressing gown." He'd blink, shut the cupboard, and then go back to irritating Lestrade. "I'm going out, Dad, I have-"

"You're coming with me, to Bart's." I sighed, setting down my school bag, and sat down on the arm of the couch.

"But I have an exam tomorrow! I really need to study, and so does-"

"Who? Alexander?" He glanced at me briefly, before he went back to texting. He wouldn't say it outright, but he didn't want me hanging out with Alex. Both because he was a boy, and he tended to get himself into trouble, despite being one of the smartest in my class.

"It's Alex, Dad. He likes to go by _Alex." _Dad hummed, grabbing his coat and his mobile. He tossed me my own coat.

"Yes, and you like to be called Charlie, but that's not what I named you." I just pouted at him, and he pulled his coat on, as well as his scarf. "Molly will help you study. Let's go."

* * *

He stuck me upstairs while he went down to the morgue, and I cleared a space at the lab station, pulling out my biology textbook. Dad wouldn't dare attempt to help me; he'd go too into detail and I'd end up failing for knowing too much. That happened once in grade one, and I whined about it so much that he swore never to help me again.

I was deep into the animal kingdoms when Mike Stamford came in. He grinned at me, and another man with a limp followed him in.

"Ah, bit different from my day." The other man said. I had no idea who this man is, but judging from the limp, he had a psychological problem. There wasn't anything wrong with his leg, not really.

"You have no idea. Hello, Charlotte." Mike greeted me, but I corrected him immediatley.

"Just call me Charlie, professor, please. I'm called Charlotte when I'm being argued with." I didn't even look up from my textbook. Mike examined it, humming in acknowledgment.

"Biology, eh?"

"I like it better than Chem." He paused, looking around, as he realized Dad wasn't here. I stopped him before he even spoke. "Dad's down at the mortuary, he should be up-" The door burst open, and I nodded. "Now."

"You're improving." Dad encouraged, but his next words canceled that out. "Just barely. Mike, can I borrow your phone? Mine's not getting a signal."

"And what's wrong with the land line?" He liked to text.

"I prefer to text." See? He liked to text. Keep the mystery.

"Sorry, I left it in my coat." Dad went over to the microscope, across the table from me.

"Uh, here." The other man dug through his pocket, pulling out his mobile. "Use mine." I still had no clue who that man was. Not even his name. I wonder if he even knew Dad's.

"Oh. Thank you." Dad stood up, accepting the phone with far more manners than I have ever seen. It was odd, to say the least.

"This is my old friend, John Watson." Well, finally, a name to the face. Dad flipped open the keyboard, and as soon as he said his next words, I lost all hope. He would never change, would he?

"Afghanistan or Iraq?" Mike smirked. I continued to eye my textbook as John glanced at Mike, raising an eyebrow, and then looked back at Dad.

"Sorry?"

"Which was it, Afghanistan or Iraq?"

"Afghanistan. Sorry, how did you know?" Molly came into the room then, and smiled at me, which I returned gratefully. Bless Molly Hooper, she was the only person who was going to save me from him today, I was sure of it.

"Ah, Molly, coffee. Thank you." She totally fancied Dad, but I wasn't going to point that out. The dumb bloke would have to do it himself. "What happened to the lipstick?"

"It wasn't working for me." She looked away, and glanced at me. I let out a huff, when the animals became too difficult for me.

"Really, I thought it was a big improvement. Your mouth's too small now." I would have told him to be nice, but I was too sick of him to waste the effort. Molly came over to me.

"Okay, sweetie, you said you needed some help?"

"Yes. Please. Not here." Molly nodded, and I scooped up my book and bag, following her out the door. I let out a breath when we were out of there. "I need to go on holiday. Without him." Molly chuckled.

"You need a break, there, don't you? You're loosing your head." I nodded in confirmation, and she put an arm around my shoulders. "Men never stop being like that."

"Oh, no, they get better. Much, _much_ better than Sherlock Holmes."

* * *

"Dad, honestly, I've no idea-" I paused, when I turned to be faced with not just my father, but John Watson as well. "Oh, hello Doctor Watson." He smiled.

"It's nice to see you again. Charlie, was it?" I nodded, picking up a pile of books and putting them on the shelf.

"And how did the exam go?" I winced slightly at Dad's question. I should have seen it coming.

"Not so well. It would have been easier if you'd let me go to the library with Alex." He hummed, but didn't reply. I continued to put the books on the shelf, and emptied out the box with one more stack, then left the rest to Dad.

"What about-"

"Not your housekeeper!" I picked up my bag on the way, hanging it up on my chair and getting my books out. I was about to curl up on my bed and get to work, but then I heard sirens outside. I groaned, and headed back out, ignoring my homework for now. The fun just never stops, does it?

"There's been a fourth, Charlotte." Dad called to me, and I stopped in the doorway to the kitchen with Mrs. Hudson.

"I assumed. But what's different this time?" Lestrade stormed up the stairs. "I guess we're going to find out."

"Where?" Dad demanded, as soon as Lestrade set foot in the room. The man couldn't even catch his breath.

"Brixton, Lauriston Gardens." Lestrade put his hands in his pockets, and glanced at me, smiling a bit.

"What's new about this one? You wouldn't have come to get me if there wasn't something different." Dad glanced away from the window, and at Lestrade.

"You know how they never leave notes?"

"Yeah."

"This one did." Oh, a note. Good. Good good. "Will you come?" Dad hesitated slightly. No one else noticed, but I certainly did. He always replied faster.

"Who's on forensics?"

"Anderson." Dad and I both groaned at the name. Hated Anderson, absolutely _loathed_ the guy.

"Anderson won't work with me." Lestrade knew Anderson wasn't going to be Dad's assistant, but he needed one, and badly.

"Well, he won't be your assistant." Lestrade stated obviously, and I was quick to retort.

"But he needs one." I leaned off the doorway, moving forward. "Do you want me to go?"

"I'll come. Not in a police car, I'll be right behind." Basically just told Lestrade to give him a second to talk to me. Again. Why was I not surprised?

"Thank you." He turned to me and Mrs. Hudson, smiling at me, and then mouthed 'Help him.' I nodded stiffly, turning my eyes back on Dad's. He suddenly grinned, and leaped in excitement. I rolled my eyes.

"BRILLIANT, YES!" I crossed my arms, shooting him a disapproving look, but I couldn't help the little grin that spread on my face. Dad was always at his best when he was in a good mood. "Ah, four serial suicides and now a note." He spun around, grabbing me by the shoulders and pecking my head. "It must be Christmas, Charlotte." I giggled. "You stay. I'll need something to eat." I glanced around the kitchen, and shook my head. We'd have to do the shopping soon.

"I'll run to that Italian place down the street. Leave it on the stove, since it's the only place where there isn't a mess." I said, after figuring out which spots were safe, nodding slightly in confirmation.

"But I thought you weren't my housekeeper?" He picked up his coat, scarf and gloves off the table, smirking at me. I glared.

"I refuse to clean up after you, but someone has to make sure you eat something!" He pecked my head again, and I scrunched my nose. "Go, go, you're being indecent."

"John, make yourself at home, have a cup of tea. Charlotte-"

"Yes, yes, if you're not home by eleven I'll head to bed. Now _go, _Dad." I pushed him lightly, and he pecked my head three more times before he left, slamming the door shut behind him. "That man is mad."

"Look at him dashing about. My husband was just the same, but John, you seem to be more the sitting down type." I nodded in agreement. But I knew he wasn't. "I'll make that cuppa, you rest your leg-"

"DAMN MY LEG!" Mrs. Hudson turned back around, looking startled, and I chuckled. "Sorry, I'm so sorry. It's just sometimes this bloody thing..." Just put down the cane, John. Just put it down.

"I understand, dear, I've got a hip." I shuddered slightly at the mention of Mrs. Hudson's hip. She went to go back out the door again.

"A cup of tea would be lovely, thank you."

"Just this once, dear, I'm not your housekeeper." She headed back out the door, and John frowned, turning to me. I smirked.

"She's said that one too many times. I caught on a few weeks ago." I turned to the stairs. "I don't think we have any biscuits, Mrs. Hudson, so if you've got them?"

"Not your housekeeper!" She called back again, and I smiled fully, turning to go back to my room.

"You're a doctor." I knew he'd come back for John. There was no way Dad was going alone, but he wasn't going to take me, because I wasn't capable of that yet. He didn't trust me. And I wasn't going to argue.

* * *

I frowned, looking up from my book when Dad stormed back in. John wasn't with him, which concerned me, but Dad smelled like a bin, which concerned me even more.

"Why do you smell like a bin?"

"Because I've been in one. I had to find this case." He tapped the bright pink suitcase that was now in his chair, and I scrunched my nose up at it. "What?"

"It stinks, Dad, and so do you." He rolled his eyes at me, and ripped off his jacket, tossing it aside to get to work. "So where's John?"

"I left him. He should be on his way." I pinched my nose, and sighed, sitting up.

"You left him in Brixton? The man thinks he's physically handicapped, and you _left_ him there?"

"Yes. He should be here soon." Dad took out his phone, and I knew he was going to text him.

"Tell him to come if it's convenient. He might be back at his own flat by now. You know, the one where all his possessions are?" Dad's eyes flickered with realization. I rolled my own eyes, heading back to my room. "Eat something. I'm off to bed, goodnight."

"Yes, goodnight." He was going to tell John to come, whether it was convenient or not. And I probably wasn't getting any sleep tonight.

* * *

I tossed and turned for about twenty minutes before John came back. He asked what Dad was doing, and when Dad mentioned his patches, I groaned. He called to me-it must've been a three patch problem.

"Charlotte, I need your help, get back here." John frowned at me as I entered the room and stood in the doorway with my arms crossed, my hair all tucked in a bun on the top of my head, wearing a dinky t-shirt and pajama pants. A pair that were supposed to be Dad's, but he loathed them, so I stole them. Gave him the patches I'd gotten from some kids at school-better than him actually out on the streets, right?

"How did you know she was-"

"Heard her tossing. Girl could never sleep well, ever since she was a child."

"My head wouldn't shut up." I smiled fondly at John, turning back to Dad and grew serious. "What is it, then?"

"What's missing from her case?" I frowned, raising an eyebrow.

"Isn't it obvious? Her mobile. She has a string of lovers, she wouldn't leave it at home, she had it with her." Dad smiled, nodding.

"Yes, yes, go on." I frowned further, but continued.

"If it wasn't on her, or in her purse, or in her case, then the murderer must still have it. But why?" Dad grinned.

"I don't know." He climbed in his chair, sitting on the back of it with his feet in his seat, waving me away. "Off to bed."

"Hold on, did I just text a serial killer?" I giggled, and turned on my heel, going back to my room as John said that. I heard them argue for a little longer, and I fell asleep to silence after they'd left, thirty minutes later.

I slept well, for a while, the best I've slept in ages. Until Lestrade burst through the door, that is.

I got up, pulling on a dressing gown and going out into the lounge, my eyes going wide at the men he'd brought. They were searching the entire place, every corner.

"What the hell is this?" I demanded, turning to him. "You can't do this! We haven't done anything, honestly, get out!"

"Charlie, listen-" I shook my head, groaning, snatching my purse from a cop. Lestrade made him back off, and raised an eyebrow at me. "Your father is witholding evidence-" I pointed at the case, my voice raising to a shout now.

"So take it and leave, it's as simple as that!"

"No, it's not, it's a drugs bust." I turned around slowly, giving Anderson my most deadly glare-the one I'd learned from my father. It was even scarier on me, so Anderson turned, shuddering slightly. I turned back to Lestrade, lowering my temper so I could tell him.

"He's not on them. He's been fine, he hasn't touched them in ages, Lestrade, you know that. He doesn't even smoke, for Christ's sake!"

"Charlotte." I turned to Dad as he came in, and gently pushed me behind him. "Go downstairs with Missus Hudson."

"But Dad-"

"Now, Charlotte, I won't ask again." Dad shot me a look, nodding to the stairs. I paused, but sighed, shooting one last glare at Lestrade before I went down.

Mrs. Hudson let me in, sat me down in her kitchen and made me a cup of tea. Thought it'd calm me down.

"There's nothing to worry about, dear, I'm sure your father hasn't done anything." I smiled at her politely, and nodded, staring down at my cup, swirling the tea slowly with my spoon.

"Yes, I'm sure." Mrs. Hudson gripped my shoulder, and went to the door as the doorbell rang. That gave me a second to think.

She'd never made it to her hotel. She left her case with the murderer, so...she must've taken a cab! Of course she had, they were looking for a cabbie. Mrs. Hudson just answered the door for one. But Dad hadn't ordered a cab...

The cabbie.

I jumped out of the chair, and ran out of Mrs. Hudson's flat, ripping open the front door as Dad went to get in the cab.

"Dad." He stopped, and turned slowly, smiling at me softly.

"I'll be fine. Go back inside." I shook my head slightly. Dad sighed, and this time his voice grew sterner. "Go back inside, Charlotte. That's an order."

"I'm coming with you-"

"No. You're not." Dad paused, and climbed inside, holding the door open. He looked me in the eyes, his own growing sad. "I'm sorry." I just stared, as he slammed the car door, and the cabbie drove away.

I ran up the stairs, wasting no time, stopping the adults from arguing.

"It was the cabbie. It was the cabbie, and Dad just got into his cab, now go and find him." They all paused. I stared back at them all, clenching my fists. "My father is a complete and utter imbecile, he'll do anything to prove he's clever, including attempting to choose the right drug to take without killing himself! SO GO AND FIND HIM, RIGHT NOW!"

I managed to chase all of the cops out of there, quick as a whip. I grabbed the tablet when they were gone, and John stopped in the doorway, frowning at me as he was about to follow them.

"What are you doing?"

"Finding my dad, of course. Those dumb blokes won't find him until I tell them where to go." I did exactly what Dad had just done, tracking the phone to its location. It took too long, so I sat, and I waited. The cabbie had it on him-the tracker wouldn't pinpoint the phone's location until he stopped the car.

It took some time, and in that time, John remained silent. He didn't ask questions, he just sat and waited with me. I liked it, I liked that he waited for me, but questioned Dad on a constant basis. I liked that John was adjustable.

I texted the address to Lestrade after it was pinpointed, and John got up, glancing at it before leaving. I decided that since he didn't ask any questions, I wouldn't ask him any, either. It seemed fair. Lestrade picked me up, after I'd texted him far too many times. I was there when the gun went off. And that's when I _really _started to panic.

* * *

I ran right up to the crime scene, letting a breath go when I saw that Dad was just being dragged to the ambulance. A bright orange shock blanket was placed around his shoulders, and I went over to him, ignoring the cops that tried to get in my way. "Dad!" He perked up, and frowned at me, tossing the blanket aside. He took me into his arms, and I sat next to him, hugging him tightly.

"I told you to stay with Mrs. Hudson."

"I never listen. You don't, either." He chuckled, and held me a little closer, pecking my head. "I'm never going to get any sleep, am I?"

"No, probably not." He looked up at Lestrade, and I pulled away, turning to him as well. "Why have I got this blanket, they keep putting it on me?" As Dad said that, the medic put the blanket back around his shoulders.

"It's for shock."

"But I'm not in shock." Lestrade smirked.

"Yes, but some of the guys want to take photographs." I rolled my eyes, forcing back a laugh-if I did that right now, I'd never hear the end of it. Dad sighed, and turned away for a moment, before his mind went back to the shooter.

"So, no sign of the shooter?" Lestrade shook his head.

"Nah. Cleared off before we got here. This girl, though, she's worse than you." Lestrade pointed a finger at me, and I grinned. That was the goal.

"It's because she's a girl. But I suppose he'd have many enemies, right? One of them could have been following."

"Wrong. Don't tease, Dad, that's not very polite." Dad turned to me, raising an eyebrow.

"Then tell me your theory." I paused, and glanced around-at the window where the shooter shot from, picturing the wound, the scene, placing myself in it.

"He used a handgun, judging by the bullet they dug out out of the wall. Also, with the distance, that kind of weapon, you're looking for a crack shot. Not just a marksman though, no, you're looking for a fighter. His hands wouldn't have shaken at all, clearly he's acclimatized to violence. He didn't fire until Dad was in immediate danger, so he had a strong moral principle-" Dad stopped me by putting his hand on my shoulder, and I blinked, turning to him. He grinned at me, almost devilish.

"That's brilliant, Charlotte. Truly brilliant. But ignore everything she's just said, Detective Inspector, because she's all wrong. And I have no idea who could have done it." He caught on, then-took him long enough. Dad tossed the blanket aside, and stood up, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. I crossed my arms, and Lestrade just stood there, frowning at us as we walked away.

John was standing just outside the police tape, and Dad lifted it up for me to duck under. I smirked at John.

"Let's go home, then. Try to avoid a court case. I'm sure you wouldn't serve time for it, though." John frowned at me, but he knew what I was talking about. I rolled my eyes, marching forward down the street. "Let's get a cab."

"But no serial killers this time, all right?" I laughed. Dad chuckled, and fell into step with me, John falling into step with him.

"Dinner?" My stomach growled in response. Dad smirked. "Chinese?"

"Absolutely. I'm starving." I frowned, when John muttered to Dad about the man he was talking about, the one who bribed him to spy on us. I raised an eyebrow, and shared a smirk with Dad, approaching him as he stepped out of the car.

"So, another case cracked. How very public spirited. But that's never really your motivation, is it?" He looked Dad up and down.

"What are you doing here?" Dad asked.

"As ever, I am concerned about you." He glanced at me. "And about Charlotte, of course. Doesn't she have schooling in the morning?" I rolled my eyes.

"She can never sleep anyway, she'll be fine." Dad smirked. "As ever, I've heard about your concerns."

"Always so aggressive about her, aren't you? Did it never occur to you that you and I belong on the same side?" I scoffed.

"Oh, please, of course not!" I said, earning a glare.

"Never." Dad replied, and we shared the same grin. John was growing more concerned with my involvement, but I just wanted to mess with him, if only this once.

"We have more in common than you'd like to believe. This petty feud between us is simply childish, people will suffer, including your daughter." He paused. "And you know how it always upset Mummy." John frowned now. I smirked, giggling.

_"I _upset her? Me? Oh no, I gave her a grandchild, I couldn't have upset her. It wasn't me that upset her, Mycroft." I giggled even further at John's reaction. I couldn't stop myself, I was over tired. "Now look, you've gotten her riled up. She'll never sleep now."

"You're the one who let her come here, it's half past one already. Of course she won't sleep." Dad shot him a glare, and grabbed me by the shoulders. I still couldn't stop, and Dad couldn't help but smile.

"Mycroft, what I do with my daughter is none of your concern. Gaining weight again?"

"Loosing it, actually." I scoffed, laughing even harder. I was starting to cause a scene. "Charlotte, please, control yourself."

"I can't!" I giggled even more. "I'm sorry. Sorry, sorry, Uncle." Uncle raised an eyebrow at Dad, but Dad shook his head.

"No, it's fine. She'll calm down once we're away from this."

"Goodnight, Uncle." I called, and he waved, as Dad dragged me away. The laughter died down as we got to the main road, and grabbed a cab.

John was utterly, and completely confused, which made that the best part of the night.

* * *

I sighed, and sat up, shooting my father a glare. "Dad, I'm thirteen years old, I don't need you to-"

"Go to sleep, Charlotte." Dad replied, glancing up briefly from his book, and then went back to it. I huffed, and tossed onto my side, putting my back to him, hugging the pillow under my head.

He used to do this when I was a kid. He'd sit with me, and make sure I went to sleep, sometimes he'd even fall asleep in the chair. He'd never read to me, sing, none of the normal things parents did. He just sat there, sometimes watching me, sometimes reading to himself. The silence could be scary, but oddly comforting, because I knew he was there. And he would protect me if I needed it, pick me up if I'd fall out of bed. It helped me sleep on a regular basis, knowing Dad was there.

And it helped this time, too.


	2. The Blind Banker

**Hey guys! Long time, no talk. Actually, no talk at all.**

**Let me tell you guys first thing, that I won't be updating this fic daily, or weekly. Maybe monthly. As soon as I find out when the next series comes out, I'll let you guys know, but for now, I'll be doing this monthly. So please be patient with me, all right? I've got other fics going, too.**

**I'd like the thank everyone that's favorited, or followed this story. I'd also like to thank the guest that reviewed. You guys make my day. :) I hope this fic makes your day, too.**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Sherlock. I only own Charlotte.**

* * *

I raised an eyebrow at John, as the checkout started to fuss. I sighed, and nodded for him to back off. I finished scanning the items, then slid John's card as he handed it to me. He punched in the pin, but the machine wouldn't accept it. I whipped out my own.

"Where did you get that?"

"What, did you think my uncle would leave me with nothing? The man makes sure I'm prepared for anything. Him, and my father. They never cease to stop." John wouldn't have pegged Dad to worry about anyone as much as he did me, I could tell. But that was what made Sherlock Holmes such a strange man. He cared deeply, he just pretended like he didn't.

* * *

I lugged up the stairs right behind John, and set the bags down in the kitchen, now that Dad had finally cleared some space.

"You took your time. Must've been Charlotte, I'm assuming."

"Actually, no, not this time. John was having a row with a chip and pin machine." Dad smirked, and I watched as he kicked a sword under his chair after noticing it himself.

"You've not moved an inch, have you? What about that case, the Jaria diamond?" He wasn't interested. Besides, he'd had a visitor-he was far too busy for that nonsense.

"Not interested. I sent them a message." John spotted the scrape on the table, and Dad smirked.

John sat down, and I sighed, rolling my eyes. He was still pissed about the machine. I finished putting away the shopping, and sat down on the couch, picking up the book I'd left on the coffee table. And I waited for the fun to begin.

* * *

John sighed, as he skimmed through the papers on his stand. "I need to get a job."

"Dull." I hadn't realized how long I sat there. I was immersed in this book, it was actually quite interesting. I didn't realize Dad had even taken John's computer until John confronted him.

"Is that my computer?"

"Of course." Of course it was. I rolled my eyes, sitting up now, setting my book aside to watch their exchange.

"What?"

"Mine was in the bedroom." John turned to me, raising an eyebrow. I nodded slightly, telling him that yes, Dad did this often.

"What, and you couldn't be bothered to get up? It's password protected."

"It wasn't hard to figure out. Took me less than a minute to figure it out." John turned back to me, raising an eyebrow at me. I grinnd sheepishly. "Sorry! Mine was being fixed."

"Right, thank you." John stepped forward, and snapped his computer shut, taking it away from Dad. Dad held up his hands for a moment, and then clasped them together, setting his chin on top.

"I need to go to the bank." He grabbed his coat off the back of the door as he got up, and turned to me. "Charlotte, get your coat." I got up as ordered, grabbing my coat and pulling it on over my jumper, following Dad down the stairs and outside. John soon followed.

I had no idea what was going on, but he was getting me involved. I couldn't have cared less about why he insisted that I go.

* * *

I followed Dad through the revolving door, and John was right behind me, examining his surroundings.

"Yes, when you said we were going to the bank..." John's voice trailed off. I watched Dad carefully, and he examined the times, the people logging in. We went up the escalator, and there was the reception counter, dealing with clients of the giant bank. Dad went up to the receptionist, telling her his name.

I always knew Uncle's name would cause recognition-and I knew Dad's name caused recognition, never normally the good kind, but this time, it did.

* * *

"Sherlock Holmes." Dad stood, and so did I, as the man entered the room. Sebastian. I met him once, absolutely hated the guy. He couldn't resist making fun of Dad.

"Sebastian." Dad shook his outstretched hand.

"How are you, buddy?" He noticed me out of the corner of his eye, smiling at me as well. "How long has it been, eight years since I last clapped eyes on you?" He turned to me then. "Charlotte, you've grown like a weed!"

"It's been eight years, of course I have. And I like to go by Charlie now, if you don't mind." He nodded, turning back to Dad as he introduced John.

"Sebastian, this is my friend John Watson." Sebastian raised an eyebrow, a smirk spreading on his face.

"Friend?"

"Colleague." John corrected, holding out a hand to shake which Sebastian accepted. Sebastian cleared his throat, glancing between John and Dad.

"Right. Grab a pew. Do you need anything? Coffee, water?" John took a seat, and Dad stood back, letting me take the other. John, Dad and I declined. Sbeastian sent his secretary away.

"So, you're doing well. Been abroad a lot." Sebastian sat back in his seat, shrugging.

"Well, some." Dad frowned.

"Flying all the way around the world, twice in a month." Sebastian laughed, pointing an accusing finger.

"Right. You're doing that thing-and I've bet you taught Charlie that, too, didn't you?"

"I didn't have to teach her, she learned." I smirked as Sebastian glanced at me, and then he turned to John.

"We were at uni together, and this guy here had a trick he used to do."

"It's not a trick." Dad tried to explain, but Sebastian went on.

"He could look at you and tell you your whole life story." John nodded.

"Yes, I've seen him do it. Charlie, too."

"Put the wind up everybody. We hated him. You'd come down to breakfast in the formal hall and this freak would know you'd been shagging the previous night." I wanted to punch him. The man was making fun of him, again, and I didn't want to hear it, not one bit.

"I simply observed." Dad stated, but Sebastian was messing with him-he wanted to see more of it, he just didn't outright say it.

"Go on, enlighten me. 'Two trips in one month flying all the way around the world.' You're quite right. How could you tell?" Dad turned to me, and nodded. He wanted me to explain this time. I went to, but Sebastian continued to speak. "You're going to tell me there was a stain on my tie from a special kind of ketchup you can only buy in Manhattan?" Dad wanted to do this, I could tell, so I didn't say a word.

"No, I-"

"Or was it the mud on my shoes?"

"I was just chatting with your secretary outside. She told me." John was confused, but I remained calm, and he copied. Sebastian laughed, clapping his hands.

"I'm glad you could make it over. We've had a break-in." Sebastian stood, and Dad followed him out the door, with me and John following him. "Sir William's office, the bank's former chairman. His room has been left here like a sort of memorial. Someone broke in late last night."

"What did they steal?" John, John, John. Silly John. Dad wouldn't have been contacted if something had been stolen!

"Nothing. They just left a little message."

Sebastian stepped back as Dad entered the room, and I stood next to him, examining the message.

It just paint. Bright yellow paint, from a spray can, a single line across the man's eyes in the picture above the desk. And then another message next to it, another line, but an upside down eight underneath it. Same yellow paint for both.

Sebastian led us back to his own office after Dad had gotten a look, showing us the security tapes.

"60 seconds apart. So someone came up here in the middle of the night, splashed paint around and left within a minute."

"How many ways into that office?" Dad asked, not even glancing up from the tapes.

"Well, that's where this get really interesting." He led us back out the door, and down to the entrance desk, showing us a layout of the floor. "Every door that opens in this bank, it gets logged right here. Every walk-in cupboard, every toilet."

"That door didn't open last night?" Then how on earth did they get in?

"There's a hole in our security. Find it and we'll pay you. Five figures." Dad wasn't going to take it, but John might. Sebastian took a check from his jacket, holding it out. "This is an advance. Tell me where he got in, and there's a bigger one on its way."

"I don't need an incentive, Sebastian." Dad walked around him, calling to me over his shoulder. "Come along, Charlotte." I walked past them as well, following Dad back to the office.

He stopped right in front of the desk, and I stopped next to him, waiting for him to tell me what to do. He handed me his mobile. "Take a few pictures." I took the mobile from his hand, letting him work it out while I took the pictures. Dad walked over to the window, lifting up the blinds, looking down and around. He opened it up and stepped out, looking down, and across at the Gherkin.

"He couldn't have gotten in through the window, could he?" Dad sighed.

"No, it's impossible." He went out the door again, and took me with him, making sure I was right behind him. He jumped around from spot to spot, moving about the floor, but I couldn't tell what he was doing. I stopped right beside a cubicle, waiting for him to stop moving about. That is, until he yelled at me to come along-again. I sighed, and followed his movements-and that's when I saw what he was doing. He was trying to find a spot where he could see the painting, so I went about on my own, finding a spot in the back.

"Dad!" He came back to me, and I stood him right where I could see it. "You can see it there, right?" He grinned.

"Yes. Yes, I can." He moved slightly to left, and the painting left his view. He kissed my head. "Perfect." He moved to look at the sign, find out who's office it was-Edward Vancoon's. He worked with Hong Kong. Dad slipped the paper out of the slot, and stuffed it in his pocket. "We're done here."

I rushed to catch up with him, stepping in stride. "So the message was for Vancoon?"

"Yes, but what for." He paused. "Good work." I turned slightly, meeting his eyes for a second before he turned away. I smiled.

"Thank you."

* * *

John joined us as we headed to the exit, and went down the elevator to the main entrance. "'Two trips around the world this month.' You didn't ask his secretary, you said that just to irritate him. How did you know?"

"Did you see his watch, John?" He frowned at me, and I smirked. "The time was right, but the date was wrong."

"It said two days ago." Dad explained. "He crossed the dateline twice, but he didn't alter it."

"In a month? How did you get that part?" We got onto the escalator when Dad answered him, with me leading the way.

"New Breitling. Only came out this February." I stepped off, with Dad behind me, and then John.

"Okay, so do you think we should sniff around here for a bit longer?"

"Got everything I need to know already, thanks." Dad replied, and shared a smile with me. "Charlotte helped me find it."

"It wasn't hard. Just took longer than expected."

"That graffiti was a message. For someone at the bank, who was working on the trading floors. We find the intended recipient and..."

"They'll lead us to the person who sent it." John finished Dad's sentence, and Dad nodded, as we got onto another escalator.

"Obvious." John shrugged.

"Well, there's 300 people up there. Who was it meant for?"

"Pillars." Dad stated simply. John frowned even further, getting more confused.

"What?"

"Charlotte." I glanced at Dad, and he furrowed his brows at me. "Tell me what you think."

"Pillars and the screens. You could see the graffiti from very few places, and that narrowed the field considerably. And, of course, the message was left at 11:34 last night." I stated simply, stepping off the elevator, and waited for Dad and John. "That tells us plenty." I led the way out of the building, and Dad was right behind me. John was still confused.

"Does it?"

"Traders come to work at all hours. Some trade with Hong Kong in the middle of the night. That message was intended for someone who came in at midnight." Dad held out the slip to John, and said, "Not many Van Coons in the phone book." Dad reached out, yelling for the taxi that drove by, and it pulled over immediatley.

* * *

Dad buzzed the flat, and waited for a minute, before he did it again. Still no answer.

"So what do we do now? Wait until he comes back?" Dad looked up at the flat, trying to find another way in. Good thing he'd just moved in.

"Just moved in." Dad said, and John frowned.

"What?"

"Floor above." Dad pointed to the label. "New label."

"Could have just replaced it." Oh, no, John. Another label would be under it, but there isn't one. Must be a new tenant. Dad buzzed the flat, turning to John.

"No one ever does that." A woman spoke through the intercom then.

_"Hello?" _Dad turned to it, doing his best to act like he was normal-act, being the word there.

"Hi! I live in the flat just below you. I don't think we've met." I did my best not to laugh, biting my lip and turning away instead. Pretended the man wasn't my father.

_"No, well, I've just moved in." _Dad shot John a look, turning back to the intercom.

"Actually, I've just locked my keys in my flat."

_"Do you want me to buzz you in?"_

"Yeah, and can I use your balcony?"

_"What?"_

* * *

I went to the front door of the flat, but Dad went upstairs to use the woman's balcony. John stopped next to me, frowning as I pulled a pin from my hair.

"Charlie, what are you doing? Isn't he going to-"

"No. He's going to forget as soon as he gets in, and besides, I can get us in. Give me a moment." I slipped the pin into the lock, and jimmied the door open, pushing it. Dad went looking about, and I went to follow, but he stopped me right outside a set of double doors, which most likely led to his room.

"Charlotte, don't come any closer." I frowned.

"Why?" He shot me a look, saying that I knew exactly why. And I did.

Dad had never let me near a morgue, for the same reason he hadn't brought me along on cases before-he had someone else to help him now. Someone who could handle the dead bodies, and the danger, because he'd never dare put me in danger. And he'd make sure I never had to see a dead person in my life, if he could.

John slipped passed me, and I phoned Lestrade. I stayed in the lounge, and didn't go anywhere near that room. I didn't want to see a dead body-I knew I would, at some point, but I didn't want it to be today.

* * *

I frowned, at the man that entered. Dimmock, someone called him-he looked young. And when he talked to Dad, he called himself a Detective Inspector, but wasn't he too young to be one?

"We're obviously looking at a suicide." Dimmock stated, leaving the bedroom with an evidence bag. Dad followed, and John followed him. Dad was taking off a pair of rubber gloves, and Dimmock frowned at me. "Who're you?"

"My daughter, Charlotte."

"Charlie." I corrected Dad, and Dimmock handed the evidence bag over to another cop.

"That does seem to be the only explanation-suicide. With all the facts." John stated, but I shook my head.

"Wrong. It's one possible explanation of some of the facts. You've got a solution that you like, but you're choosing to ignore anything you see that doesn't comply with it."

"Like?" Dimmock questioned, and Dad looked at me. Dimmock did, too, raising an eyebrow. "Well?" I paused, frowning, but then I thought it over.

"The coffee table, it's on the left-hand side of the couch, with the coffee mug pointed to the left. It's quite obvious he was left-handed. But the bullet wound is on the right side of his head, isn't it?" Dad nodded, smiling for a brief second, and Dimmock paused. "Someone broke in and murdered him. I could go on, but that'd be showing off, and I'm not my father."

"I'll continue then. Left sockets used the most, pen and paper on the left side of his phone, butter on the right side of the knife." Dad finished me off, shooting me a look. "You have to mention all of the facts, Charlotte, or you'll never be able to prove your theory."

"But the gun-" Dad cut Dimmock off as he spoke again.

"He was waiting for the killer. He'd been threatened." Dimmock frowned, as Dad went to collect his coat.

"What?" Dimmock asked, still completely confused.

"Today at the bank. Sort of a warning." John stated simply, and I smiled as he'd finally caught on.

"He'd fired a shot when his attacker came in." Dad said, and Dimmock stuttered slightly in amazement as he asked his next question.

"And the bullet?"

"Went through the open window." I said, and Dimmock turned to frown at me again.

"Oh, come on! What are the chances of that?" Dad replied next-this one was his.

"Wait until you get the ballistics report. The bullet in his brain wasn't fired from his gun, I guarantee it."

"But if his door was locked from the inside, how did the killer get in?" Finally catching on. It'd taken them ages.

"Good." Dad pulled his other glove on, and was heading out the door. "You're finally asking the right questions. Charlotte." I followed him out the door, with John on my tail.

He stopped by the road, grabbing a taxi, and then turned to me as John got in. "You're going home, do you understand?" But he was finally letting me help. Why send me home now? "I know you don't understand why, but I need you to do this for me. All right?" I hesitated, but nodded. "Good." Dad got in, and I got in after as Dad turned to the cabbie. "Baker Street, 221B Baker Street."

* * *

I looked up from my sheet music as John walked through the door, and Dad spoke.

"I said, could you pass me a pen?" John stopped in the doorway, turning to me. I shrugged. But I knew exactly what Dad was talking about-he'd asked John to do something, hardly even noticed he was gone. He did that to me, too, when I got home from school sometimes. He'd suddenly ask me to do something, and he hadn't even realized I'd gone.

"What, when?" John asked, after looking around to make sure no one else was here.

"About an hour ago." John sighed, picking up a pen off of his coffee table.

"Didn't even notice I'd gone out then?" Dad caught the pen as John tossed it to him, not even looking away from the mirror on the wall. John started looking over the pieces Dad had stuck to it. "I went to see about a job at that surgery."

"How was it?" I piped up, setting my music down. John didn't bother looking away as he replied.

"Great, she's great."

"She?" John realized what he said, and turned to face me, frowning.

"The job. I was talking about the job-"

"You said she." Dad pressed on, and I smirked. We had John cornered.

"It. I said it." I chuckled, sitting back in my seat. He wasn't going to budge, and neither I nor Dad had the patience for it.

"Here, have a look." John hummed, but backed up, standing next to Dad. I watched from my spot on the couch. John looked at the computer, but I was here when Dad discovered it.

"'The intruder who can walk through walls.'" John quoted, and Dad replied.

"Happened last night. Journalist shot dead in his flat. Doors locked, windows bolted from the inside. Exactly the same as Van Coon." John frowned at the computer, turning to look at Dad after he'd examined it.

"God, do you think-"

"He's killed another one."

* * *

"Brian Lukis, freelance journalist, murdered in his flat," Dad turned the computer to face Dimmock after finding the page he was looking for, "doors locked from the inside." John spoke up after Dad.

"You've got to admit, it's similar. Both men killed by someone who can walk through solid walls." Dimmock shot John an aggravated look, one he'd shot at Dad as well.

"Inspector, do you seriously believe that Eddie Van Coon was another city suicide?" Dimmock didn't say a word. Dad sighed, looking away. "You have seen the ballistics report, I suppose?" Dimmock hummed in agreement. "And the shot that killed him-was it fired from his own gun?" Dimmock shook his head.

"No." He replied, and Dad agreed afterward.

"No. So, this investigation might move a bit quicker if you were to take my word as gospel." Dad shot Dimmock an angry look-he was getting frustrated. Dad slammed on the desk, leaning close. "I've just handed you a murder inquiry. Five minutes in his flat." Dimmock paused. But he finally caved, getting up from his desk.

"Fine. Five minutes-" he glanced at me, "and don't mess with the evidence."

* * *

Dad went up the stairs first, with me behind him, Dimmock behind me, and John behind Dimmock. Dad glanced around one room, and I did the other, gathering as much as I could about this man. I went back in when I couldn't find anything, and found Dad at the window, smirking. "Four floors up. Four floors, Charlotte, that's why they think they're safe." I frowned, but nodded slowly.

"But a chain across the door, bolt it shut, they think they're impregnable. They don't think for a second there's another way in, do they?" Dad rushed out of the room, and I followed him, with Dimmock frowning at our retreating forms.

"I don't understand."

"We're dealing with a killer who can climb." Dad stated. Dimmock grew more impatient.

"What are you doing?" Dad climbed up, examining the walls.

"He climbs the walls like an insect. " Dad pushed open the skylight, looking up at the roof. "That's how he got in."

"What?" Dimmock asked again. I smirked, as Dad turned to him.

"He climbed up the side of the walls, ran along the roof, dropped in through this skylight." Dimmock frowned at him.

"You're not serious." Dimmock asked.

"Like Spider-Man." I stated, smirking even bigger. "I like this. He's clever, very clever."

"He scaled six floors of a Docklands apartment building, and jumped the balcony to kill Van Coon." Dad said, and Dimmock just couldn't stop frowning, could he?

"Hold on!" Dad ignored him, continuing.

"And of course that's how he got into the bank. He ran along the window ledge and onto the terrace." Dad stepped down, and away from the skylight, turning to look at me. "We need to find out what connects these two men." Dad glanced around at the stairs below him, the ones that led out of the flat. Books and papers were scattered over every stair, and Dad started to pick through them, picking up a specific one. He slammed it shut, and headed down the stairs. "Charlotte!"

"Yes, yes, I'm coming." I sighed. This case was endless.

* * *

Dad followed the book back to the library Lukis had gotten it from, scanning to see when it had been taken out. He headed down an aisle of books, remaining as quiet as possible. I went down the one next to it.

"The date stamped on the book is the same day that he died."

"Charlie, what are you doing?" I rolled my eyes at John, and I assumed Dad did, too.

"She has something to find for herself. But she's listening, of course." He picked out the same book off of the shelf, but a different copy, and John went about. I continued to look for something myself.

"Sherlock." John found something. I went back down the aisle, and up the one they were in, examining the back of a shelf. I glanced at it, and frowned.

There was another message. But this one was different, different symbols, and Dad was going to loose it soon if he didn't figure out what they meant.

* * *

I sat on the couch, with the notepad I'd written the symbols and information I'd needed, copying the information into a paper that was due on Monday.

"So the killer goes to the bank, leaves a threatening cipher for Van Coon. Van Coon panics, returns to his apartment and locks himself in. Hours later, he dies." Dad and John were going over the evidence they'd gathered, Dad reciting Van Coon's.

"The killer finds Lukis at the library. He writes the cipher on the shelf, where he knows it'll be seen. Lukis goes home." John continued with Lukis, but Dad finished him off.

"Later that night he dies, too." Dad was looking at the cipher again, and John was just confused.

"Why did they die, Sherlock?"

"Only the cipher can tell us." Dad paused. He turned to the door, grabbing his coat. John picked up his, too. "Charlotte." I sighed. i should have seen that coming.

"Honestly, do you _want _me to fail secondary school?"

"You'd be more help. But sadly, Mycroft would throw a fit, and so would your grandparents. You can finish that paper easily, you just don't want to keep running about."

"Of course I don't, I'm thirteen, I'd rather be unconscious than be running about!" John smirked, chuckling. Dad rolled his eyes.

"Charlotte, come. Now." I grumbled, but set the paper down, pulling my jacket back on over my jumper. I shot a glare at John as he continued to chuckle.

"Not funny."

* * *

Dad's voice was almost drowned out by the people and the fountain, but John and I managed to hear him anyway. "The world's run on codes and ciphers, John. From the million-pound security system at the bank to the pin machine you took exception to, cryptography inhabits our every waking moment."

"Yes, okay, but-" Dad cut John off, continuing to explain.

"But it's all computer-generated electronic codes, electronic ciphering methods. This is different. It's an ancient device." Which is why we were going to a museum-that's where the experts were, the ones who could tell us what the ciphers meant. "Modern code-breaking methods won't unravel it."

"Where are we headed?" John asked, and I went ahead up the steps, eager to get to the person Dad was seeking advice from.

"I need to seek some advice." John smirked as he questioned Dad's actions.

"What? Sorry?" I smirked as well, but I hid it from him.

"You heard me perfectly, I'm not saying it again." Dad hated when he had to seek advice. It'd happened a few times before, but very few times.

"You need advice."

"Yes, of course he does, it's painting. And we're going to one of my favorite artists." Dad was rolling his eyes, and I laughed. "This is getting fun now, Dad!"

I ran behind the museum, before John and Dad, crashing against the wall next to his new piece.

"Part of my new exhibition, Charlie-you like it?" I examined the piece, and smirked, nodding.

"Yeah, Raz, I do. What do you call it?"

"Urban bloodlust frenzy." I rolled my eyes, taking out Dad's phone and pulling up the pictures as Raz chuckled, and smirked at me.

"Raz, can you tell me anything about these pieces?"

"Can we do this while I'm working?" I nodded, and he tossed John his can when him and Dad finally came around. Dad frowned at the phone in Raz's hand.

"Pickpocketing again?"

"Can't complain, Dad, I learned it from you. Anything, Raz?" Dad sighed, standing next to me, with John frowning at the work, and the spray paint in his hand.

"I recognize the paint. Looks like Michigan, hardcore propellant. I'd say zinc."

"What about the symbols, do you recognize them?" Raz frowned at the phone.

"Not even sure it's a proper language." I laughed. Good 'ol Raz, I could never get enough of this idiot. But Dad was getting frustrated, even more so at my laughter.

"Two people have been murdered, Raz. Deciphering this is the key to finding out who killed them." Raz looked up from the phone, looking at Dad, thinking the lead was ridiculous.

"What, and this is all you've got to go on? It's hardly much now, is it?"

"Are you going to help us or not?" I stepped up, shooting Dad a look that told him to calm down, and Raz handed me the phone.

"Can you at least ask around?" Raz nodded. I smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Raz."

"Oi!" My eyes went wide, and I shoved the phone in my pocket, as Dad, Raz and I ran away from the cop as fast as we could. John just stood there.

Poor John.

* * *

John came back a while later. Dad was still looking at the evidence, and I was in my room, writing that paper.

"You've been a while." Dad stated obviously, and I rolled my eyes.

"Yeah, well, you know how it is. Custody sergeants don't really like to be hurried, do they? Just formalities-finger prints, charge sheet, and I've got to be in magistrates court on Tuesday."

"What?" Oh, Dad, you were going to get it-John was about to loose his temper, and he did, as soon as Dad asked that.

"Me, Sherlock, in court on Tuesday. They're giving me an ASBO."

"Good, fine." The same replies he'd say to me, after coming home from school. He'd say them in a monotone, not even interested, so I never said a word.

"Charlie!" I sighed, and rolled off of my bed, going into the lounge, staring at John with my big eyes-I used to them to my advantage, John was softening.

"I'm sorry, John, Raz never mentioned the guards. I didn't know he'd do that to you." John paused, and huffed, sighing in defeat.

"It's all right. I'm not blaming you, just-anytime your friend wants to own up?"

"I'll tell him to go to court on Tuesday, admit to it. Again, I'm really sorry." John nodded, smiling appreciatively at me. "I'm gonna go finish that paper."

"Yes, go and finish your homework." John waved me off, but Dad frowned.

"What's taking you so long to do it? You'd normally take five minutes."

"It's about the French." Dad nodded. Now he understood-I'd never liked French history, never at all.

"Well, then that's too bad, because you're coming with me." I groaned, holding my face in my hands. "We've got to talk to Van Coon's PA. John, you go to Scotland Yard, find the journalist's diary. Charlotte!"

"Yes, yes, fine." I grabbed my coat, storming down the stairs. "Gran's going to throw a fit when I fail."

"God bless our souls."

* * *

Van Coon's footsteps led to right outside of a shop, with lucky cats sitting in the window. This was London's equivalent of New York's China Town. Lucky Cats everywhere. I wanted to stab my eyes out.

John met us there, on the street, and we headed into the shop. John greeted the woman at the counter, and Dad and I looked at the product. The cats. I crossed my arms, keeping to myself as much as possible. John continued to look as well, and I picked a cat up, and the woman spoke to me in the best English she could. "You want lucky cat?" I shook my head, smiling politely, and held up the cat for Dad to look at.

"Look at the bottom." Dad frowned, but snatched the cat from my hand. "They're numbers."

"Ten pound, ten pound!" John told her no thank you, but she kept insisting. "I think your wife, she will like." John shook his head, and I giggled. She turned to Dad. "Your daughter, she like?"

"No, no, thank you." She was starting to get mad. I grabbed John by the coat, dragging him out the door, smiling at the woman as Dad led the way. "Thank you!"

"Charlotte, it's an ancient number system, Hang Zhou. These days only street traders use it."

"So those were numbers? Written on the walls of the bank, and the library?" I nodded in response to John's question, as Dad went to look through someone's market. He was trying to find out what the numbers were.

"Numbers written in an ancient Chinese dialect." I replied to John, stopping Dad from looking everywhere. "The number was fifteen, that's what the artist's tag was."

"Yes, and the horizontal line was a number, too." Dad held up a slip of paper-it was the line, with a one written under it. Dad smiled. "Chinese number 1. We've found it." I grinned with him, and he kissed my head quickly, before walking back to a restaurant and grabbing a table. My stomach growled suddenly when he did, and I frowned.

"Do you always know when-"

"Of course I do, I'm your father." I sat down across from him, and John sat next to me after Dad said that. He hadn't heard it.

"Two men travel back from China. Both head straight for the Lucky Cat Emporium. What did they see?' Dad looked up, but I put my head down. I was too hungry to focus. But then the waitress came by and put my plate in front of me, and one in front of John as well. I thanked her, and then dug right in. I was s_tarving._

"Charlotte." I looked up from my plate, right at Dad. And then I stuffed another fork of noodles into my mouth. "Think about what Sebastian told us about Van Coon, about how he stayed afloat in the market."

"He lost five million." I said around my food, and Dad shot me a disgusted look, as well as John. "What? You could get up any-" I swallowed, "minute. And I'm starving, so go on. He made it back in a week, so..."

"That's how he made such easy money."

"He was a smuggler." John realized, and I nodded, shoveling some rice onto my fork.

"A guy like him, it would have been perfect. A businessman, making frequent trips to Asia." I explained.

"Lukis was the same." I swallowed my rice, frowning, and looking up at Dad. "A journalist, writing about China. Both of them smuggled stuff out." I frowned further, as Dad smirked. "Their drop off was The Lucky Cat."

"But why did they die? It doesn't make sense. If they both showed up at the shop and dropped off the goods, why would someone threaten them and kill them after the event, after they'd finished the job?" I paused, after John said that. And then I smirked.

"One of them was light-fingered. Took a five finger discount." John turned to me, frowning, but Dad grinned. "The killer didn't know which one stole! He threatened them both!"

"Charlotte, you're brilliant. Truly brilliant." He looked out the window, and I continued to shovel as much food into my mouth as possible. Dad was going to get up soon, I could tell. "Remind me, when was the last time it rained?" Dad got up, and I groaned, as well as John. John got up and chased after him, and I did as well, but I made sure to grab my eggroll. No way I was leaving without it.

Dad led the way to a door, which I assumed led to a flat, considering the book leaning against the door. He buzzed the flat when I approached, and he only took a second to go around back. John sighed, but followed Dad, and I followed as well.

"No one has been in that flat for at least three days."

"They've gone on holiday." John tried to explain, but he didn't see the open window.

"Do you leave your window open on holiday?" Dad asked, and he backed up, before jumping to grab the fire escape ladder that led up to the window. It went right back up as Dad finished climbing them. I groaned, but backed up, and tried to grab the ladder-I was too short, but I bent my knees, bracing the landing. My legs shook, but I didn't really hurt myself. I went back to the front, with John following me. He'd been on watch the entire time.

I pulled a pin from my hair, and that let my hair fall around my face, as I reached down to jimmy the door open. But John decided to open the mail slot, yelling at Dad through it.

"Do you think this time you could let us in?"

"I've almost got it, just wait-" He couldn't wait, apparently.

"Could you not keep doing this please?"

"I'm not the first." I frowned. Someone else had been in there? Like he was? I groaned, when I couldn't get it.

"The lock's broken, you can only get it from the inside. We'll just have to wait."

"What?" I rolled my eyes, leaning against the wall, listening to their conversation. I wasn't even going to try this time.

"Someone's been in here before me." Dad called again, but John couldn't hear.

"What are you saying?"

"Someone was in there before him. Someone got in through the window, like he just did." I listened, as Dad described the intruder, holding up a hand to silence John.

"Size eight feet. Small, but athletic."

"I'm wasting my breath, aren't I?" I nodded in response to John, but held open the letter slot, listening to Dad. John buzzed the flat again. John stopped, though, and paused, before he yelled through the mail slot again. "Any time you want to include us!"

Dad had gone oddly silent. I frowned-he wouldn't normally go this quiet.

"Something's wrong." I went back around, going up to the ladder again. I stepped back further, and jumped, trying to get the ladder down-this time, I managed to. Just as I did, another person ran out of the flat-the intruder. My eyes went wide, and I was shoved out of the way, slammed against the building as the intruder took off. I groaned, and slid down the wall-I could feel the bruises forming already. Why was I born with such an easily bruised body?

"Dad!" I called up to him, but he left through the front. He stumbled his way around, and frowned at me. I leaned on the wall heavily, forcing myself up. He looked like hell. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. I'm fine, but what did he did to you?" Dad helped me off of the ground, then held me by the shoulders, forcing my chin up to look at him. "Are you hurt, Charlotte-"

"He shoved me out of the way, that's all. I'm fine." Dad still didn't stop fussing. I sighed, and leaned off the wall, but I immediately felt the pain-that wall had _hurt._ I grimaced because of it, and Dad grabbed my arm, dragging it around his shoulders. "I'm fine, Dad, honestly, stop fussing!"

"You're going home." I sighed.

"Fine, but could you let go of me, please? I can walk on my own." Dad let go of my shoulders, but I gladly grabbed his arm. I smirked at him when he shot me a look. "I'm not sick, I'm just in a little pain. An arm is all I need."

"Stubborn."

"Don't complain-I got that from you."

* * *

Dad stormed in with John after a couple of hours, and I was woken up when he did that. I hadn't even realized I'd fallen asleep on the couch.

"Charlotte, go to bed." I nodded, and pushed myself off of the couch, stumbling to my room. But I couldn't fall asleep, once again.

Dad barged in, he'd heard me tossing and turning. He sat down in the chair, but he was growing impatient. That, or he was worried. "Are you-"

"I'm not in any pain, Dad. I just can't get comfortable."

"You're lying." Yes, I was. So I rolled onto my stomach, and I did my best to fall asleep. The pain killers helped.

* * *

I laughed at Danielle, as she messed around with the artifacts. Her sister tsked at her.

"Dani, could you guys take these into the examination room?" She handed me a stack of papers, had Dani grab an artifact, and Alex take one of her bags. " I just have to get a couple things, and we'll leave right after." Alex agreed, and held out an elbow for Dani.

"Hang on to me, Dani, I'll protect you!" I raised an eyebrow, crossing my arms.

"And what about me, hm?" Alex smirked.

"You're Sherlock Holmes' daughter-you can defend yourself just fine." I pouted. Alex stifled a laugh.

"Deduce the creep and he'll run away!" They both burst into fits of laughter, and I shot them both glares, rolling my eyes.

"It's a science, not a trick, guys!" They continued to laugh anyway, but then the lights went out. My eyes went wide, and I fought back a scream, taking my phone from my back pocket. "Stay here."

"I'm coming-" I cut Alex off, shaking my head.

"No, you're staying here with Dani. I'll be right back, just-just stay here. It's safer."

I went to the room that Frankie has asked us to go to originally-I held my phone in front of me as a make-shift torch, and jumped, hearing Dani and Alex scream when a gun was fired. Twice, to be exact, and then I remembered where Dad and John had been before I had gotten home from school.

They had come here. And John even told me they were coming back later, how could I be so _stupid!_

I raced to the room, but I when I got there, it was too late. The gun went off one final time, and I saw it go off-I saw the killer shoot Soo Lin in the head. I screamed when it happened, and I couldn't hear anything else; the gun shot rang in my head. The papers Frankie had handed me slipped from my fingers, scattering across the floor, and I just stared, fighting the urge to vomit.

A hand fell onto my shoulder, and I spun around, screaming again. Dad gripped my arms, stopping me from lashing out at him. "Charlotte, calm down, it's just me." My chest lifted slightly. I wrapped my arms around myself, and swallowed back the vomit. Dad grabbed my chin, forcing me to look him in the eyes. "We need to get you out of here-"

"Dani's sister brought us here. Me, Alex and Dani, she brought us all here, they should be down the-" I pointed, and Dad nodded to John. I hadn't even realized he was there until he walked away, to go and find them. I still couldn't stop staring at Soo Lin. "Did you find out what-"

"That's not important right now, Charlotte, you are." I bit my lip, and looked back up at Dad. He sighed, taking me into his arms, turning me away from the body. "Let's go."

I was right, at least-I didn't see a dead body until two days later.

* * *

I was sat down in a chair in between Dad and John, and John was arguing with Dimmock.

"How many more murders is it going to take before you start believing that this maniac's out there?" Dimmock stormed past John, and I stood, my anger getting the better of me.

"A girl was gunned down tonight, Dimmock! I saw it myself! That's three victims in three days, now tell us what the hell you're going to do about it!" Dad set a hand on my shoulder, stopping me from getting in Dimmock's face. I forced myself to take a step back, crossing my arms so I wouldn't end up punching him.

"Brian Lukis and Eddie Van Coon were working for a gang of international smugglers, a gang called the Black Lotus operating here in London under your nose." Dimmock perked up at that. Oh, so it took a group of smugglers to get his attention, but not three bodies in three days? FUCKING PRICK.

"Can you prove that?" Yeah, we could, if you'd just fucking believe it!

* * *

Dad sent me home after that. He came home a couple of hours later, and I was trying to sleep to no avail. Dani and Alex had been texting and calling constantly, and Dad came into my room first to check on me, since they'd probably got into contact with him as well with their concern. I didn't look up from the spot I'd decided to stare at on the wall, but decided I'd tell him what I pieced together.

"It's not just a criminal organization, it's a cult. The brother was corrupted by one of its leaders, Soo Lin said the name I'm guessing, but you didn't tell me anything she said to you."

"Just as I suspected. Worrying about the case, and not about yourself."

"Yes. Because I don't want to see another dead body, I want you to solve this and make sure I won't see another person killed. Now what name did she say?" Dad wasn't going to encourage it. This time, he was going to try to listen, that's why he sat on my bed and not the chair. I rolled my eyes. "I don't need a therapy session, I need to know the name." He still wouldn't budge. He didn't touch me, but he looked at me, trying to get my attention.

"You watched a person killed tonight, Charlotte."

"And I'm assuming that Soo Lin won't be the last."

"You're friends are worried."

"Of course they are, this isn't normal for them."

"And it was never supposed to be normal for you." I frowned, and turned to look at Dad now, but he'd gotten up and left. I sighed, and rolled over, laying on my back to stare at the ceiling.

A little while later, cops started carrying crates and crates of books up the stairs, so I put on a dressing gown, and went out to help. Dad and John were going to need it, and I wasn't going to be getting any sleep, not with the gunshot still sounding in my head.

I helped look through books until the break of dawn. My alarm clock went off, and I groaned, slamming my head on the books in front of me. John chuckled, while Dad picked up the box in front of me, dragging it away.

"Don't laugh, John, you've got to work today." John suddenly realized, and checked his watch. I grinned, skipping to my bedroom. "I don't need to wash my hair, just give me ten minutes and the loo's all yours."

"Hurry up, Charlie, if you could." I set out some clothes, and grabbed a towel from the linen cupboard, slamming the door shut behind me.

This was going to be a very, _very_ long day.

* * *

I frowned at Dad from the couch, as I looked up from my homework, watching as he stared at the bookshelf.

"Books everybody would own." He plucked a few from the shelf, and went searching through them, while I finished up my maths and went to grab my phone-I supposed I should help Dad now. When I went back into the lounge, John had gotten back.

"I need to get some air, we're going out tonight." Dad announced, but apparently, John had other plans.

"Actually, I've got a date." I raised an eyebrow.

"It's the she, isn't it?" John nodded, smiling at me. I grinned, slapping him on the back. "Atta boy! Dad, we can do just fine for one night, can't we?"

"Not after last night, no." I rolled my eyes. "Wait, what?"

"A date. I've got a date, with a girl, that I like. We're going to do something fun together." John decided to elaborate, and Dad frowned, turning to him.

"That's what I was suggesting." I wanted to just curl up and go deaf.

"No, it wasn't. At least I hope not." So gaaaaaaaay! I decided to investigate further, though, quizzing him on what he was going to do exactly.

"Where are you taking her then? Dinner? Cinema? Dancing? What is it, what are you doing?"

"Cinema." I scrunched my nose.

"I wasn't being serious, John." He frowned at me. I smacked his shoulder. "You can't take a girl to the cinema on a first date, you'll never get to know her that way! Take her to dinner. Then, oh, maybe a walk through the park, and-"

"Why don't you try this?" Dad handed John a slip of paper, something he'd ripped off of a poster. I shot him a glare. "Yours was far too predictable, and it's in London for one night only." John chuckled, but I grabbed the paper from his hand, looking it over.

"Thanks, but I don't take dating advice from-"

"It's brilliant." John frowned, turning back to me as I interrupted him. I groaned. "I hate to admit it, but Dad's good, this is brilliant. She'll absolutely love it, girls love a guy who does something like this. Taking her to a circus on the first date will score you plenty. Definitely get you a second." I stuck the paper back into John's hand. "That probably explains why I'm here."

Dad chuckled, smirking. I made a disgusted noise. I _hate_ when he acts normal.

* * *

"Actually, I have four in that name." I heard the ticket holder tell John, who was frowning, and getting confused. Dad went up to him first.

"No, I don't think so, we only booked two."

"And then I called and ordered two more, for me and Charlotte." Dad went up to Sarah, and held out a hand. "I'm Sherlock." Sarah paused, but accepted his hand, shaking it.

"Uh...hi." Dad turned to me.

"And this is my daughter, Charlotte." I smiled at Sarah politely.

"So sorry for intruding. We'll leave you two be." I ushered Dad away, after snatching our tickets and paying the guy. "Have fun!" I called to them, and Dad went ahead of me, leading the way to the stage.

I sighed, but followed, and made sure he didn't bother John. Not tonight, at least.

* * *

The stage wasn't used. There was a circle of lit candles surrounding the area where the performance would take place-the space wasn't big, not at all, and Dad looked around the room when we entered. I acted normally. John and Sarah stood off to the side, and Dad left them alone, like I'd told him to before we left Baker Street.

A drum was played, announcing the start of the performance. A woman, dressed in traditional Chinese robes stood in the middle of the circle, and held up her hand, stopping the drummer. He slowed down the beat, and she moved over to something hidden by a tarp. I frowned at it, as well as Dad. She pulled the tarp off to reveal a crossbow, and my eyes went wide.

Dad had never taken me to a circus. Were they all like this, I wondered? Or was it just the smugglers'? Dad was smirking, though, the entire time. And I was completely terrified.

The woman pulled an arrow out of a barrel, and showed it to the audience, before she set it in place. Then she pulled a feather from her headdress, and dropped it slowly into the bowl that set off the arrow, and sent it flying into a board across from it. Other people gasped, while I just swallowed back a lump forming in my throat. I didn't like the looks of this circus.

Another entertainer with a mask on came out of the shadows, and held his arms up for a couple of assistants, who wrapped a belt of chains around him and pulled it together tightly. The man was pulled against the board after the arrow had been removed, and chained to it as the woman watched.

"Classic Chinese escapology act. Crossbow's on a delicate string, and the warrior has to escape his bonds before it fires." I nodded, as Dad pointed it out, and then winced when the warrior grunted loudly as the chains were pulled as tight as possible. The woman set up the arrow again. "Are you scared, Charlotte?"

"Slightly." I muttered, watching the scene with wide eyes. "Are all circuses like this?"

"No. Most have animals." He paused, as the drumbeat sped up, and the woman pulled out a knife. "She splits the sandbag, the sand pours out, and gradually the weight lowers into the bowl." The woman poked the bag with the knife, and the sand slowly started to pour out. I was used to Dad ruining things like this for me, the magic of it all, which was why I'd only gone to the cinema as a child with my grandparents.

The warrior cried out, and grunted, trying to force his way free from the chains that bound him. I watched him curiously, but I did my best to ignore the arrow. I'd rather be surprised again than know he was going to die. He managed to get his hands free, and got to the chains around his neck as the drumbeat grew even faster. He broke free from the chains just as the arrow flew by.

I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding, clapping respectively, and knew Dad had gone by. I'd let him look around, I didn't want to get involved, not this time. He would have taken me with him if he needed me.

The applause continued until the woman held up a hand, stopping the drummer, and the audience. "Ladies and gentleman, from the distant moonlit shores of the Yangtze River, we present, for your pleasure, the deadly Chinese bird spider." China is _so _weird. It was just an acrobat, in all actuality.

A man spun down from the ceiling by curtains, and the woman disappeared from the circle. The audience clapped respectively, and I smirked-just the man we were looking for.

He spun around in the air with his curtains, and I frowned, as I noticed the other curtains-the ones on the stage-were being rustled, as if someone was shoving them. My eyes went wide again, though, when Dad was kicked out of them.

I went to run over, but John stopped me by grabbing my arm. "Stay with Sarah. I'll take care of this." John ran over to help Dad, and Sarah stood next to me, as the audience stopped to watch, gasping, and the acrobat took off his mask, and ran off. Sarah ran forward, though, when John was knocked out, and hit the guy over the head. He was knocked down by the blow.

Sarah helped John up, and Dad grabbed my hand, dragging me out after him. "Come on, Charlotte, let's go."

* * *

Dad rushed in after Dimmock, and I stumbled behind with Sarah. "I've sent a couple of cars. The old hall is totally deserted." I rolled my eyes.

"Look, I saw the mark in the circus. The tattoo that we saw on the two bodies, the mark of the Tong." Dimmock went behind his desk, and I stood right behind Dad now.

"Lukis and Van Coon were part of a smuggling operation. Now, one of them stole something when they were in China, something valuable." John argued, and Dad argued as well after turning away from John.

"These circus performers were gang members sent here to get it back."

"Get what back?" Dimmock was right-what were they after? That question left even Dad stumped.

"We don't know." Well, obviously, John. That's why Dad wasn't talking.

"You don't know?" Dimmock was enjoying this-something even Sherlock Holmes didn't know, oh, he was having a right good time with this. "Mister Holmes, I've done everything you asked. Lestrade seems to think your advice is worth something. I gave the order for a raid. Please tell me I'll have something to show for it, other than a massive bill for overtime." I was wrong. He was angry, furious, even.

At least I could say I've been to the circus now.

* * *

Dad went up the stairs first. I was right behind him, but I went to my room first, dropping off my coat and kicking off my shoes. My stomach rumbled, just as I was about to go to sleep. I groaned, and went back out into the kitchen, as it rumbled again. John was already looking through the refrigerator, and scoping out the cupboards.

"Are you guys hungry, too?" John looked up, nodding.

"Yes. Yes, go and help your father, I'll take care of this. All right?" I nodded back, smiling, and went over to see what Dad was doing.

Sarah was hovering. She was curious, so I obliged, letting Dad off the hook. "So this is what your dad and John do? Solve puzzles."

"Dad's a consulting detective, John is his assistant. I'm just the teenager that barely knows a thing, but helps on occasion." Sarah chuckled, and smiled, glancing at the ciphers in front of Dad.

"And what are those squiggles, then?" I stood off to the side, giving Dad some space. He was going to need it.

"An ancient Chinese dialect. They're a cipher, when two numbers are put together." Sarah nodded slowly at my response.

"And they translate into words." I frowned now, and so did Dad, as he turned to her.

"How did you know that?" Sarah pointed at a page.

"Well, two of them have already been translated." Dad grabbed it quickly, and stood up, calling for John. The one written on the wall, the one that was painted over as soon as John brought Dad back to it, that one started with nine million quid. But what was it for?

"Dad, where are you going?" I asked, silently begging him to take me with him. I didn't want to be stuck with Sarah and John on their date, it would've been weird.

"I have to go back to the gallery, Charlotte, Soo Lin was staring right back at the book. You stay, eat something, I'll be back soon." He kissed my head, and then rushed out the door. I sighed, pinching my nose. John laughed at me.

"I'm going to leave you two be. I have a project, anyway."

"How about some takeaway, eh?" I nodded in response. John grinned. "Get to it, then."

"Thank you, John." I scurried on back to my room, and a little while later-not nearly long enough for it to be the takeaway-I went back out, only to find that someone had broken in. My eyes went wide, and I creeped about slowly, picking up an umbrella-I went to whack the intruder on the back of the head with it, but he stopped me, and twisted my arm around. I winced, and blacked out as he bashed his head against mine.

* * *

I came to slowly, and got a look around, spotting Sarah next to me, and John on the opposite side of her with a bloody head.

"So happy you could join us, Miss Charlotte Holmes." I grumbled, wincing at my aching head. Everything was still blurry, my ears were ringing, and I was about ready to pass out again. But then I spotted the tarp-covered thing across from me directly, and my eyes went wide-I knew exactly what it was.

"Charlie, are you all right?" I groaned. The headache was starting now, and I couldn't make my mouth work, or spit out words. I just wanted to go back to sleep, but that arrow was across from me. And I was probably going to die. "Charlie?" I still didn't answer him. I spoke to the woman, from the circus, instead.

"You think he's my father, don't you?" The woman was pointing her gun at John, and I turned to her, frowning. "Honestly, how do you see it? I look exactly like my father, and my father is most certainly not John Watson. Besides, he hasn't got my curls." I smirked at the woman, and she paused.

"My name is Shan, Miss Holmes. And I want to know if you have the treasure." I frowned again. I didn't even realize she was pointing a gun at me-well, actually, I did, but I chose to ignore it.

"I've no idea what you're talking about." She pulled the safety off, pointing it right at John's head instead. I started to sweat. "I don't know who has your treasure, but it's not me, nor my father or John Watson." One of Shan's goons came forward, and put a scrap of cloth around my head, covering up my mouth. Another one came forward to help the other lift my chair up, and stick me on the other side of the arrow, and my eyes went wide. I tried to remain calm, like Dad always was, but I was about to shat my pants. Especially when the tarp was removed.

"Everything in the West has its price. And the price for your daughter's life is information, Mister Holmes." I rolled my eyes, but then the adrenaline kicked in. The fight or flight response. Either I was going to accept death, or fight it, with every fiber of my being. I chose the latter.

I started calculating my ways out of this. I could take out the men, I could take out Shan first, but then she could shoot me, and that wouldn't be good. I could try to get Sarah's help, but she was loosing her mind, and the guards would notice.

Oh yeah. I was going to die-but I was going to die fighting. My eyes went even wider, though, when Shan poked a hole in the sandbag. She grinned at me, and that was when I lost control over my emotions. Tears sprung to my eyes, and I tried to get my hands loose. The knot, though, it was made to keep me constricted, there was no way I was getting my own hands free, and I didn't have a knife on me. Dad would never let me even look at one, for Christ's sake, of course I didn't have one.

"Ladies and gentlemen, for your pleasure, Sherlock Holmes' mouthy daughter in a death-defying act from the NW1." I stared right at John, as he yelled at the top of his lungs a plea for my life. If I could reassure him, I would. I backed away from Shan as she approached me, glaring at her, trying to kick out at her, wanting to punch her. She set a black lotus on my knee. "You've seen the act before. How dull for you, Miss Holmes, you know how it ends."

"I'M NOT SHERLOCK HOLMES!" John yelled, and he was getting desperate. He was willing to risk his life for me-I knew I liked this man.

"I don't believe you." Shan stated, standing up straight.

"You should, you know. Sherlock Holmes is nothing at all like him-and besides, Charlotte has her father's looks, and she looks nothing like that man." A weight lifted off of my chest. I let out a breath, but not a big one-the arrow was still pointed at me. "How would you describe me, John? Resourceful? Dynamic? Enigmatic?"

"Late?" As always. You could always count on Dad for one thing-to be late.

"That's a semi-automatic. If you fire it, the bullet will travel at over a thousand meters per second."

"Well?"

"Well." Dad snapped at the guard that went to check behind me with his riding crop. For once, I was glad he had that thing-it made a hell of a weapon. "The radius curvature of these walls is nearly four meters. If you miss, the bullet will ricochet. Could hit anyone. Might even bounce off the tunnel and hit you." Dad knocked over a can with a fire lit in it, getting rid of a light source. He ducked over, and undid the knots tied around my stomach, whispering to me softly.

"Charlotte, are you all right?" I nodded meekly, but then the other guard came around. I shrieked in fear, but I couldn't get my hands free. I stood up, and hit the man with my chair, knocking him down and setting Dad free. Dad went back to the knots, but when I set my chair back down, I was still right in front of the arrow. The man attacked Dad again, and this time, he got Dad away from me and started choking him. John looked right at me, and then at the arrow, getting up in his own chair and tried to move closer to it. He was going to try to knock it out of the way. I stared at the arrow though, the sand. The weight it was lowering was getting closer and closer to the bowl, and it was about to hit it, but then John knocked the arrow over-and it went right through Soo Lin's brother's chest.

I screamed, loudly, and Dad got free of his bindings, kneeling in front of me to stop my crying. "Charlotte, it's all right, it's all over now. It's over." I couldn't stop sobbing. This time, it was worse, I had to sit there and stare at the man, I couldn't turn away. He didn't fall out of sight. He had an arrow in his chest, there was blood everywhere, and I could have _sworn_ I saw him twitch. "Charlotte, look at me." He grabbed my chin, forcing me to, and the tears welled up in my eyes, blurring my vision even more. My head was still aching, and I felt sick, and tired, and I just wanted to go home. He removed the binding around my mouth, and I sobbed, shaking.

"I want to go home, Dad." He nodded, and got the rest of my knots undone.

"I have to get John and Sarah free. Don't move." I nodded once more, and swallowed back the lump in my throat. Dad got them free, and I phoned the police, but I didn't say anything. John grabbed my phone and did it himself, while Dad grabbed me. I didn't bother protesting. I was too tired to focus.

I laidd my head on his shoulder, and my eyes slowly slipped shut. Dad forced me to stay awake, though, jostling me slightly. "You were bashed in the head tonight. You need to stay awake, you could have a concussion-"

"But I'm tired, Dad." He sighed, pecking my head.

"I know. You won't go to school tomorrow, get some sleep." I huffed. Dad frowned at me, and after John was done talking to the police, he ordered Dad to put me down, and John looked me in the eyes.

"Charlie, look at me, all right? Don't close your eyes." I looked right at him, and he dug a tiny little torch from his pocket, shining it in both of my eyes. "Slight concussion. Nothing too serious, but you can't fall asleep. The medics should have a look at you."

"But that's all I _want _to do!" John chuckled, and Dad smiled, but he knew what I was doing. I was trying to make them feel better-I wasn't thinking of myself again.

* * *

I was pouting, of course, just wanting to go home as the medics spoke with John. They decided to drag me into the vehicle, then, and take me to the hospital for some MRI or something.

"John, where's my father?"

"Over there." I nodded slowly. And then I jumped up, running as fast as possible, and dragged Dad with me. "OH, FOR CHRIST'S SAKE, CHARLIE!"

"SEE YOU AT HOME JOHN! DON'T BRING YOUR FRIENDS!" He was going to kill me, and frankly, so was Dad-but he was laughing too much at the moment to do anything.

I grinned-truly, this time-and I actually couldn't wait to get home, because Dad would make sure I didn't fall asleep there. Eventually I'd be dragged to the hospital-but until then, I was going to get as far away from that ambulance as possible.

Hated ambulances. _Hated _them.

* * *

"Nine million pounds? A simple little pin, worth that much, and it's sitting on her bedside table?" Dad grinned at me, and I sighed, shaking my head and set the paper down.

It was more than just a mild concussion, apparently. Wanted to keep me overnight for observation-but more for Uncle's money. He bribed them, the bastard. "So, are you going to tell her? I assume John will collect the other check from Sebastian."

"Yes. Yes, I suppose so." Dad paused. "I can do that tomorrow. I'm not leaving you here, you'll loose your mind." He sat back in the chair next to the hospital bed. "You can get some sleep now, Charlotte." I paused, not really wanting to go to sleep until I knew for sure.

I had my suspicions about Dad-about what he was thinking, why he did what he did. I had to know if he made the choices he did when I was a child to protect me.

"Did you leave me with Gran and Grandad on purpose? Did you lie, let them think you were getting into trouble, because you were doing this and you didn't want me getting hurt?" Dad frowned at me, as if it was the most ridiculous thing to ever come out of anyone's mouth.

"Of course. You're my daughter, and I had to protect you, no matter what happened. That's what a parent is supposed to do, Charlotte." I nodded. Of course-he actually did care, I forget that sometimes. He leaned forward in the chair, kissing my head. "Now get some sleep. You're getting dark circles." I laid my head back, and my eyes drifted shut as soon as I did, and I lost consciousness.

I dreamed about the Blind Banker case-but this time, Dad was there to save me. Protect me.

It was one of the best dreams I'd had since I was small.


	3. The Great Game

**Last chapter for Series 1! MORIARTYYYYYYY! IS ANYONE EXCITED? I hope so! Because Moriarty ain't gonna come quietly... ;)**

**Thanks to the guest that reviewed! HERE IS THE UPDATE YOU ASKED FOR! I HOPE EVERYONE HAS A HAPPY EASTER! Imma go eat some chocolate now. Have fuuuuuuuun!**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Sherlock, or John, or Moriar-tea. I only own Charlotte and her friends.**

* * *

Dad had sometimes grown bored with life when I was small. It'd happen occasionally, when cases weren't being brought to him, or bodies weren't piling up. And when that happened, I made sure I was out of the house-God knows what that man would do when he was bored.

I didn't really know what Dad got up to-that is, until John moved into Baker Street.

I had my earplugs in, my music was blasting, I didn't hear anything-not until Dad started shooting the gun-I didn't even know _he _was the one shooting it. My eyes snapped open. I sat right up, and a flash of Soo Lin falling to the museum floor came to mind. A pool of blood surrounded her head, and then I pictured Dad laying there instead.

"DAD!" I jumped from my bed, and ran out to the lounge, my heart pounding-but then I saw him standing up from his chair, his eyebrows furrowed and a frown on his face. I could breath again, and I lurched forward, hugging him around the waist and pressing my face in his chest. "Don't scare me like that, Dad. Next time you might not have the gun." Dad hugged me back, stroking my hair. John came up the stairs, but Dad nodded him away, telling him to give us a second. John went down the hallway.

"We'll leave the guns to John, then." I nodded, and Dad kissed my head. "All right. And whatever you do, don't get in the fridge." I frowned, and pulled away, but Dad shook his head. "Don't ask questions. Just don't do it, Charlotte, do you understand?"

"Yes, Dad, I won't get into the fridge." Dad sat back down on the couch, and John came in, looking through the fridge.

"A BLOODY HEAD?!" Well that explains it. Wouldn't be the first time, though. Dad stuck dead body parts in the flat occasionally, and he warned me everytime. I should've known.

I went back to my room, grabbing my textbook, and tried to finish up my studying. I finished just as John stormed down the stairs, and Dad called after him, asking where he was going. Mrs. Hudson came up right after him.

"Did you two have a little domestic?" I turned to Dad finally, spotting him all curled up on the couch, like a child throwing a fit. I rolled my eyes. Dad stood up as he noticed, and climbed over the coffee table, standing in front of the window. I went and helped Mrs. Hudson in the kitchen, thanking her for the shopping. "It's a bit nippy out there, he should have wrapped himself up a bit more."

"He'll be fine. Did you-" She slid the small box over to me, and I smiled at her gratefully-I couldn't get those with John and Dad around, it'd be weird. "Thank you, Missus Hudson. You're a saint." I kissed her cheek, and went to my room quickly, sticking them where Dad never looked-my underpants drawer.

"Look at that, Missus Hudson-quiet. Calm. Peaceful. Isn't it hateful." I rolled my eyes as I entered the lounge again.

"You'll be fine, Dad, stop moping. I'm sure something will pop up soon-read a book!" Dad turned and shot me a glare. I raised my hands in defense, taking the receipt from Mrs. Hudson as she handed it to me.

"What on earth have you done to my bloody wall?!" Dad smirked. "I'm putting this on your rent, young man!" Mrs. Hudson stormed back down the stairs, as Dad acknowledged his work.

And then the blast came. Dad was blasted forward, and I spun around, protecting myself from the broken glass, but a piece hit my face despite my efforts. My ears rung, but no concussion this time, thank God.

Dad got up, and knelt next to me, checking me over. I nodded him off, and he grabbed me by the arm, leading me to the stairs.

"What was that?" Dad was grinning-grinning! A case!

"I have no idea."

* * *

"Sherlock! Charlie!" John came bounding up the stairs, but I didn't look away from the window, leaning my head on my cello. Dad was sitting in his chair with his violin, not even using his bow. Uncle glanced up, as well as Dad. "I saw it on the telly, are you two okay?"

"Charlotte's got a scratch, but we're both fine."

"It was a gas leak, apparently." I said it with an eye roll, and Dad turned back to Uncle.

"I can't." I sighed, and picked up my bow again, as Dad picked at the violin's strings. Uncle raised an eyebrow.

"Can't?"

"The stuff I've got on is just too big, I can't spare the time." John glanced between them, clearly confused, so I leaned towards him and whispered.

"Talking about a case. Uncle does this occasionally, when the government isn't capable of figuring it out." John nodded, and I tuned in to the conversation again, gently running my bow over the strings.

"Never mind your usual trivia, this is of national importance." Of course it was.

"How's the diet, Uncle?" Dad smirked, while Uncle shot me a look. I smiled sweetly at him over my shoulder.

"Fine, Charlotte. Perhaps you could get through to your father? Or John?" I scoffed, chuckling.

"Oh no, no, I can't. John, though-maybe."

"What?" John glanced between me and Uncle. I turned to John, setting my cello aside.

"My brother can be very instransignet." Uncle explained for me.

"If you're so keen, why don't you investigate it?" I asked. I was getting annoyed with their bickering, and frankly, I just wanted them all to take off so I could play my cello.

"I can't possibly be away from the office, Charlotte, don't be ridiculous, not with the Korean elections, so..." Uncle trailed off, when Dad and John looked up, and I raised an eyebrow. "Well, you don't need to know about that, do you? Besides, a case like this, it requires...legwork." Uncle scrunched his nose at that, and I just got up, taking my cello with me.

"How's Sarah, John, how was the lilo?"

"Sofa, Sherlock, it was the sofa." John was still wondering how they did it. I shut my door behind me, but left it open just a crack. All I wanted to do was practice, but I don't think I was going to today.

"Goodbye, Charlotte." Uncle knocked, and I smiled, letting him kiss my head.

"Yes, goodbye, Uncle. I'm sure John will figure it out." Uncle smiled, hummed, and then left. I giggled. I turned back to my cello, and glided my bow across the strings. I'd missed my cello, it'd been in the shop for weeks, and now I just got it back, so Dad decided to drag me along on a case.

"Charlotte, Lestrade called! Come on!" I groaned, leaning my head on the cello. I set it back in it's case, and grabbed my coat, heading out the door after John. "I'd be lost without my daughter and blogger." I smiled at Dad as he glanced at me.

Of course he would.

* * *

"You like the funny cases, don't you? The surprising ones." Well, it took Lestrade a while, didn't it? Of course Dad did, why did Lestrade think he showed up whenever things got weird?

"Obviously, Charlotte could tell you that." I shot Dad a glare, and he was smirking, but I couldn't see it since I was right behind him.

"Well, then you're going to love this. That explosion..." Lestrade trailed off.

"Gas leak, yes?" Dad asked, but Lestrade shook his head.

"No." I frowned, as well as Dad, and Lestrade led us right into his office.

"No?" Dad asked, and Lestrade confirmed him, as I followed Dad inside.

"No, made to look like one." John frowned as he followed me, and we gathered around Lestrade's desk, while Dad took a look at the contents lying across it.

"What?" John asked, as we both looked at Lestrade.

"Hardly anything left of the place, except a strong box-a very strong box-and inside it was this." He pointed at the envelope Dad had been looking at-his name was written on it.

"You haven't opened it?" Dad asked, now looking up at Lestrade.

"It's addressed to you, isn't it? We've X-rayed it, it's not booby trapped."

"How reassuring." Dad picked up the envelope, and brought it over to the desk light, examining it thoroughly. "Nice stationery. Bohemian."

"What?" Lestrade asked.

"From the Czech Republic." I answered, and he glanced at me, and then back at Dad. "Man or woman?"

"She used a fountain pen." Woman, then. Interesting. "Parker Duofold, iridium nib. No fingerprints?"

"No." Lestrade replied, and Dad took out a letter opener, cutting the envelope open slowly. He pulled the item out of it, and I frowned even further.

"The pink phone, that's the-that's the phone." Not the real one, John, but yes, it's supposed to look like it.

"What, from 'A Study In Pink'?" Lestrade asked, and I nodded in response.

"Well, obviously not the actual phone, but meant to look like...'A Study In Pink'? You read his blog?" Dad asked, turning around to face Lestrade.

"Of course I read his blog, we all do. Do you _really _not know that the earth goes round the sun?" Sally snickered. John shot them a look, and I glared at Lestrade. Dad waited until Sally left.

"It isn't the same phone. This one's brand new. Someone's gone through a lot of trouble to make it look like the same phone, which means your blog has a far wider readership." Dad opened up the voicemail, and an automated voice announced that there was one message. Dad played it, and five beeps rung out.

"Is that it?" John asked, turning to me, but I shook my head.

"No, that's not it." The phone chirped, signalling a text. Dad held the phone out so John and I could see it, as well as Lestrade.

It was a picture of a lounge-wallpaper was ripped from the wall, the room was empty of furniture. There was a plain white fireplace, and a broken mirror in the corner.

"What the hell are we supposed to make of that? An estate agent's photo and the bloody Greenwich pips." Lestrade declared, seeming pissed off at what was the only thing remaining from that explosion.

"It's a warning." Dad stated, staring off, thinking.

"A warning?" Asked John.

"Some secret societies used to send dried melon seeds, orange pips, things like that. Five pips." When Dad said that, I realized what the message meant.

"They're warning us it's going to happen again. Dad, we've seen this place before." I started going out the door, with Dad right behind me, and John behind him.

"Hang on, Charlie, what's going to happen again?" I turned to John, making a boom gesture, and he nodded.

"Bang!" I said, to clarify, and kept going towards the exit. Dad was smirking, he had this gleam in his eyes, like he was proud. I don't think I'd gotten enough of that look.

* * *

I jumped out of the cab first, forcing the front door open quickly, and went over to the other doors, the ones that didn't lead to our flat. I glanced at the letters, and pointed when Dad came in.

"I remember this one, this one gave me the creeps, that's why you insisted we go upstairs. Missus Hudson!" I called to her, turning back to Dad. "I think it was the smell, and the door didn't look too safe, either." Dad smirked.

Missus Hudson came out, and I asked her to go and get the key to the flat, when John and Lestrade came in.

"You two had a look, didn't you, Charlie? When you first moved in?"

"This is important, Missus Hudson, please. It's for a case." She scurried back off to her flat, and I turned back to the lock, examining it with Dad. "It's been opened recently, hasn't it?"

"Yes. It has." Missus Hudson came back in, and handed Dad the key. It took him a second to get it open, examine the door thoroughly.

"I can't get anyone interested in this flat. It's the damp, I expect. That's the curse of basements."

"Yes, and you had a place when you were first married with plenty of black mold. I'm truly sorry, Missus Hudson, but we've got to go. Thank you!" I grinned at her, rushing in after Dad.

He pushed the door open slowly, walking in carefully. "Charlotte, wait out there. This room could be a trap." John got me to the side, and Lestrade smiled sadly, pushing his way in. I leaned in the doorway, looking over the room from there.

A pair of shoes sat in the middle of the room. John and Lestrade stood off to the side, and Dad approached the shoes, but I stopped him.

"You've just told me to stay over here, I wouldn't recommend you going about normally." Dad paused, and shot me a look, but I smirked. I had him there. He turned back to the shoes, and laid down on the floor carefully, getting a closer look at the shoes, trying his best not to touch them-and then a phone rang. Dad stood right back up, and took off a glove, pulling out the pink phone. Dad stared at it for a second, but then he answered the call, putting it on speaker so we could hear.

"Hello?" The first thing we heard was a woman crying.

_"Hello...sexy." _I scrunched my nose, fighting the urge to cover my ears and turn my back.

"Who is this?" Dad asked, while John and Lestrade shared a look. John turned to me, and I made a disgusted look, sticking out my tongue. He smirked.

_"I've sent you a little puzzle just to say hi." _She wouldn't stop crying. The woman wasn't the one who was doing this, then, she was a victim. She was saying what she was told to, so she could live.

"Who is talking? Why are you crying?"

_"I'm not crying, I'm typing and this stupid bitch is reading it out." _I bit my lip, watching Dad, as he came to a realization.

"The curtain rises." This was all connected. In some way, it was all connected, and Dad knew it.

"What?" John asked.

"Nothing." Dad replied too quickly, John could tell he was hiding something. He really had to work on that.

"No, what did you mean?" John demanded, and Dad turned his head slightly, to talk to him.

"I've been expecting this for some time." Dad turned back to look at the phone, as the crying woman spoke again.

_"Twelve hours to solve my puzzle, Sherlock, or I'm going to be so naughty."_ We heard the woman crying for a moment more, and then she hung up the phone.

* * *

"So, who do you suppose it was?" John asked Dad. I spun around on the chair, waiting for the results to come up, while Dad worked the microscope.

"The woman, on the phone." I clarified for Dad, but he didn't have any interest in the hostage. Wouldn't do any good.

"Charlotte, pass me my phone." Dad asked, and I reached into his jacket pocket, looking over the texts. "Who is it?"

"Uncle. Wants to know about the case he gave you. Wait, eight? Why didn't he cancel his appointment?" John frowned at me. "Uncle doesn't text when he can talk. If the case is so important, then why didn't he cancel his dental appointment?" The computer started to beep, and I grinned. "Dad."

"Ah!" He shared the grin with me, and Molly came in then, smiling as ever.

"Any luck?" She asked, coming to look at the computer with us. John backed off.

"Oh, yes." We all looked up, though, when the door was opened again.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't..." His voice trailed off, as he met Dad's eyes, then mine, and then landed on Molly.

"Jim, hi! Come in, come in." Jim came in, and Molly gestured to Dad, as Dad turned back to the microscope. "Jim, this is Sherlock Holmes, and his daughter Charlie." Jim nodded, and I smiled politely, even though I knew this guy was totally gay. Molly was his beard. "And, uh, sorry..."

"John Watson, hi." John nodded to him, and Jim turned to Dad, watching him work.

"Hi. So you're Sherlock Holmes. Molly's told me all about you. Are you on one of your cases?" He stepped past Molly, getting uncomfortably close to me and Dad.

"Jim works in IT upstairs. That's how we met, office romance." She was shoving it in Dad's face-she liked Dad, I knew she did, but Dad was too much of an idiot to see it. Dad turned to Jim, and glanced at him, then back at the microscope.

"Gay." He said simply, but I kept my mouth shut, looking over the results. I wasn't getting involved in this.

"Sorry, what?" Molly asked.

"Nothing. Um, hey." Dad turned to Jim, using a fake smile. He even said _hey? _Dad needs to stop acting normal, it's starting to scare me.

"Hi." Jim knocked something over, and picked it right back up. "Sorry, sorry." John was getting annoyed. I fought the urge to laugh, keeping my face towards the computer monitor. "Well, I'd better be off. I'll see you at the Fox, about six-ish?" He'd slipped his number under the tray. Dad was going to have some fun with that.

"Yeah." Jim kept a hand on Molly's back, but he got a god look at me, and couldn't turn away for a moment-but then he spotted my dad again. "Bye. It was nice to meet you." Dad didn't say anything.

"You, too." John replied.

"A pleasure." I said to him, looking up for a brief second, and then back at the results. "Dad, can I have a peek?"

"Sure." He got up, and Jim walked out, after figuring Dad wasn't going to say anything.

"What did you mean gay?" Molly asked, but she was getting nervous. "We're together."

"And domestic bliss must suit you, Molly. You've put on three pounds since I last saw you."

"Dad!" I scolded, smacking his arm lightly. "You're being cruel!" I turned to Molly, after getting a good look. "You look very pretty, Molly, don't listen to a word he says. He's just in a mood."

"With that level of personal grooming, he's clearly gay, Charlotte, and you saw that."

"But I chose not to say anything, Dad, because that'd be mean." Dad raised an eyebrow at me. "Just because you're sparing someone time, doesn't mean you're being kinder." Molly rushed out of the room, and I slammed my head on the table. "It was the number. She saw the number, didn't she?"

"Of course she did." I sat back up, and stood, pacing the room. "Go on, then." I turned back, glancing at the shoes, as Dad nodded to them. "Impress me." I hesitated-Dad saw it, and called me out on it the only way he knew how. "You're hesitating because you don't want to be ridiculed, but you've been doing very well, you just have a problem with specific objects-with people, you have no trouble at all. But the next step is objects. So impress me."

"The owner kept them in perfect condition, but judging from the sole, they were worn plenty. There's evidence of a name scribbled on the flap, so they must've been a kid's, but the kid had very large feet. You would think they were a retro design, but they're not, because these trainers are limited edition-they're twenty years old, but they look brand new, and the kid had eczema, because his skin particles are stuck to the shoelaces which he changed not only once, but four times." I didn't look away from the staring contest I was having with Dad the entire time. John was wide-eyed, shocked to see how well I'd done-Dad had tested me a couple times, but this time was different, this was for an actual case.

"Good. You missed some things, but overall, you did well. They were whitened, he kept them spotless, he loved those shoes-two blue stripes, limited edition 1989. The shoes were well worn, yes, but more on the inside, so he had weak arches. British made." I nodded, fighting the urge to kick a table-the weak arches! I should have _known_ that one!

"But they look brand new, there's still mud on them." John pointed out, completely miffed by our deductions.

"Someone's kept them that way." I went over and took the shoe as Dad offered it to me, frowning as I got a look at the sole. "Plenty of mud caked on the sole. Analysis shows it's from Sussex with London mud overlaying it." John frowned, glancing at me.

"How do you know?" He asked. Dad pulled up the screen.

"Pollen showed it, pinpointed the area it came from on the map." I set the shoe back in Dad's hand, glancing at the screen. "South of the river, too..." I paused, piecing it together. "So a kid from Sussex came to London twenty years ago, and left behind his favorite shoes. He didn't do it on purpose, it was on accident, wasn't it? Something bad happened to him."

Dad just stared off into space. I frowned at him, trying to get his attention, but he'd already figured it out.

"Carl Powers." I frowned even further. "Carl Powers, John. Do you remember?"

"Sorry, who?" John asked, and Dad just repeated the name.

We left after that, and got a cab. Dad explained on the way.

"1989, young kid, champion swimmer, came up from Brighton for a school sports, drowned in the pool, tragic accident. You shouldn't remember it, why should you?" Dad held out his phone, showing us both the case. "Charlotte, of course-"

"Wasn't born yet. But you were just a kid, Dad, how old were you?"

"He had a fit in the water. No one thought anything of it, no one except me. By the time they got him out it was too late." I knew Dad wouldn't have said anything. He still wanted to keep the mystery. "There was something wrong, something I couldn't get out of my head."

"What?" John asked, but I answered for him.

"His shoes. His shoes were gone."

"I made a fuss, I tried to get the police interested, but nobody seemed to think it was important. He'd left all the rest of his clothes in his locker, but there was no sign of his shoes." Dad said, and leaned forward, picking the shoes up off of the floor of the cab.

"Until now." I said, my mouth turning up slightly in a smirk. This was getting interesting.

* * *

Dad was looking over the articles, with his laptop in front of him. John was anxious-he thought Uncle's case was of importance as well, and Dad only had five hours left.

The doors to the kitchen were shut tight. John turned to me, hoping I could help in some way. "I want to help. What do we do, Charlie?"

"Just leave Dad be. This is close to him, something he's been looking at for a very long time, I'm sure he'll get it." I picked up my phone, reading over Uncle's text. "Now he's texting me. Soon enough, he'll be texting you, too. I've got an idea." I got up from my spot on the couch, opening up the kitchen doors. "Dad-"

"Yes, yes, send him on his way. Come here and help me." I grinned, shutting the doors, and turned to John.

"Dad's about to send his best on this case. The missile plans." John frowned. "Grab your coat. Oh-and wear a tie, if you'd please."

"Charlotte!" I rolled my eyes, giving John a thumbs up, and went back into the kitchen, shutting the doors behind me.

* * *

Mrs. Hudson walked in just as Dad had it figured out. I was sitting on a stool, still completely miffed at the fact that he hadn't needed me at all. "Poison!" He shouted, and Mrs. Hudson set the tray down, frowning.

"What are you going on about?" John walked in behind her, and Dad banged on the table, scaring Mrs. Hudson right out of the flat. I flinched slightly, but no one noticed.

"_Clostridium botulinum_. It's one of the deadliest poisons on the planet." Dad turned to John, and John just frowned at him. "Carl Powers!"

"Are you saying he was murdered?" John asked, getting it finally. Dad stood up, going to stand in front of the shoelaces he'd hung from the ceiling. John joined him, and stood on his side. Dad didn't say anything. He was waiting for me.

"Remember the shoelaces? The boy suffered from eczema. It would be the easiest thing in the world to inroduce the poison into his medication. Two hours later he comes up to London, the poison takes effect, paralyzes the muscles and he drowns." Dad rushed about the room, but landed across from me. John smiled slightly at my explanation.

"How come the autopsy didn't pick that up?" He asked, and Dad answered.

"It's virtually undetectable, and nobody would have been looking for it." Dad started to type away on his laptop, making a post on his website. "But there's still tiny traces of it left inside the trainers, from where he put the cream on his feet. That's why they had to go." Dad finished typing, and made the post, waiting.

"So how do we let the bomber know?" John asked, and Dad glanced at his watch.

"Get his attention. Stop the clock." Dad and John looked at the shoes.

"The killer kept the shoes all these years."

"Yes." Dad nodded. "Meaning..." A look of realization crossed John's face, and I grinned.

"He's our bomber." The pink phone began to ring, and Dad picked it up quickly, answering the call. The crying woman spoke again.

_"Well done, you. Come and get me." _Dad practically shouted into the phone, acting very calm, trying to calm the woman down enough so she'd be able to talk properly.

"Where are you? Tell us where you are."

* * *

I went home from school the next day, only to find that Dad wasn't there. I figured he was on a case, so I went to Bart's, hoping to find him there.

He looked up from his work as I walked into the lab-he was pissed I'd gone alone, with a bomber running about. I sat across from him smiling a bit cheekily, but Dad wasn't going for it.

"Charlotte, you should have stayed home."

"But I want to help." Dad looked down at the pink phone, as it rang. I frowned, when Dad didn't put it on speaker; he was keeping something from me. But what? Dad paused, before he spoke.

"Hello." Dad listened closely, and looked me in the eyes, frowning at what the hostage was saying. "Why would you be giving me a clue?" My brows furrowed as well. Something the bomber was saying made Dad smirk, which made my brows furrow even more. "Then talk to me in your own voice." Dad hung up the phone soon after.

"The bomber said something. He said something about me, didn't he? That's why you're telling me to go home?" Dad looked back down at the dish in front of him. I peeked over, seeing the blood sizzling with a chemical reaction. "Must've been frozen, yes?"

"I have to go and tell Lestrade. Go straight home." He nodded to the door. "Now, Charlotte, I won't ask you again." I paused, but got up, after staring at him for too long. He didn't look up at me, not once. "Would you-" The door slammed shut before I could hear the rest of his request. If he was going to deny my help, he might as well deny all of it.

I was becoming useful, but Dad wouldn't have it. He wouldn't put me in danger.

* * *

I watched from the couch, as he typed away on his laptop, making a post on his website again. The phone rang out immediatley, and Dad put it on speaker this time. _"He says you can come and fetch me. Help. Help me, please."_

* * *

The next day, Dad and John got back after me, with Lestrade right behind them. "Charlotte, help me please." I got up from my spot on the couch, and grabbed the box of tacks off of the desk, helping Dad pin up the information John had gotten him. He was trying to figure out the connection between the cases-it was pinned up, covering the wall.

Dad started to pace, and I leaned against the fireplace, getting a look from a distance, trying to see it. "Charlotte, don't help me."

"But Dad-" I was cut off by the pink phone going off. Dad answered it-the hostage this time was an old woman.

_"You're enjoying this, aren't you? Enjoying the bonding you're having with Charlotte? Joining the dots? Three hours. Boom...boom." _The dial tone rang out, and my eyes went wide, as Lestrade turned to stare at me. His eyes were wide as well, and Dad paused.

"Charlotte, you have to go. Go to your friend's, you can't be here." The bomber was right. He was right, and that scared me, and Dad knew it did, he had to send me away. Had to keep me safe.

I went down to Mrs. Hudson's flat, and sat with her until Dad left again. I wouldn't go far, I couldn't make myself do that. Not with this.

* * *

I had my knees pulled up under my chin, watching the telly from the couch. _"The explosion, which ripped through several floors, killing twelve people, is said to have been cause by a faulty gas main."_

"A whole block of flats. He certainly gets about." John said, cutting off the reporter.

"Well, obviously I lost that round, although technically I did solve the case, so..." Dad muted the telly as he spoke, and suddenly came to a realization. "He killed the old woman because she started to describe him. Just once, he put himself in the firing line."

"What do you mean?" I sat forward on the couch, watching Dad as he answered John's question.

"Well, usually he must stay above it all. He organizes these things, but no one ever has direct contact."

"Like the Connie Prince murder? He arranged that?" Dad frowned at me as I asked that, but John picked it up.

"People go to him, wanting their crimes fixed up, like booking a holiday?"

"Novel." I frowned even further, as well as John. But then John nodded to the telly, and Dad unmuted it. The housekeeper who killed Connie Prince was being shoved into a police car. "Taking his time this time." I got a look at the clock, and got up, grabbing my bag. "Did you get that reading done?"

"Yes, I did. See you later." I grabbed my phone out of his hand as he held it out to me-pickpocketed it again, wondering if I had plans. Which I did.

"Stay as open as possible. I think I might need your help this time." I grinned.

"Sure. Bye, John." I waved at him as I headed to the door, running down the stairs. Dani met me outside, her hair already pulled up and away.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Charlie? It takes the life out of you." I shrugged, tugging my hair back as we headed down the street, Dani looking for a cab.

"Yeah. Yeah, let's do this." Dani scoffed, but I rolled my eyes, shoving her shoulder. "Now stop being such a push over. TAXI!"

* * *

I got out of the cab just as Dad went up to the gallery, and pressed some bills into the cabbie's hand. I was anxious, and Dad could tell-he fought a smile.

"No smiling, Dad, this is serious." He pushed open the doors, and I followed. He went around back, and got a disguise-he loved disguises, but honestly, he was terrible at acting the part. _Especially_ when he tried accents.

He led the way to the piece, and I stared at it, frowning. "We've only got a few minutes. Do you think you can-" I cut Dad off, shushing him.

"Shhhhh. Working." I examined every inch of the piece-it wasn't the technique, it wasn't the paint, it wasn't the canvas. It had to be what was painted on the canvas, but what?

I thought of the time. The time it was painted, the country, the artist. Something was off. Something historical, but it wasn't the building structures, it wasn't the bridge, it had to be the sky. But what? _What?_

Heels clicked against the floor. I cursed, and turned my head slightly. Dad shot me a look saying not to do anything, so I stayed put, and continued to work.

"Don't you have something to-wait, who are you? Who is this girl?"

"My daughter. I'm sorry, she's a history nut and begged me to. We were just admiring the view."

"Lovely. Now get back to work, send the girl on her way. We open tonight-she can see it then." Dad turned suddenly, frowning.

"Doesn't it bother you?"

"What?" She didn't like being asked that, she was annoyed. I smirked.

"That the painting's a fake." I turned on my heel, and Dad stopped right in front of the woman. "It has to be a fake-something about it, I just haven't pinned it down yet."

"You are in charge, aren't you, Miss Wencelesas?" Dad asked.

"Who are you?" She glanced at me, and then back at Dad. She was nervous-she knew it was a fake, too.

"Alex Woodbridge knew it was a fake, so somebody sent the Golem to take care of him. Was it you?" Dad was accusing her, but she was jumping it. Acted like she didn't know.

"Golem, what the hell are you talking about?"

"Are you working for someone else? Did you fake it for them?" The bomber. This was the bomber's own doing, _that's_ what Dad was thinking.

"It's not a fake." She declared, but I stepped forward.

"It's a fake, Miss Wencelesas. I don't know why, but it is. There's something wrong with it." She frowned at Dad.

"I don't know what you and your daughter are on about, but I could have you sacked on the spot."

"Not a problem." Dad declared, and I fought off a laugh.

"No?" I shook my head, shrugging.

"No, you see, I don't work here. Just popped in to give you some friendly advice." Dad smirked at her, and I grinned, waiting for him at the edge of the wall the painting was displayed on.

"How the hell did you two get in?" Dad scoffed, and started towards the door, taking off the hat and setting it on a pole, blocking off the line of sight of the painting.

"The art of disguise. Hiding in plain sight." She demanded to know how we got in again, and Dad pushed me forward lightly, pressing a hand to my shoulder to get me moving. He took of the jacket as we went towards the exit.

"Who are you?"

"Sherlock Holmes, and my daughter, Charlotte." Dad sounded as if she was supposed to be impressed, and she asked if she was. "Yes. You should. Bye!" Dad called, slamming the door shut behind us. I couldn't help laughing, once the door was shut. Dad grinned. "Well that was fun."

"Yes, it was. Almost as fun as the zoo." Dad grinned even further at the mere mention of the zoo. "I loved the lions-and their habitat."

"Yes. Me too."

* * *

I looked through Dad's phone, and he watched, looking up at the painting every once in a while. "It's a fake, it has to be."

"That painting has been through every test known to science. So please, if a thirteen-year-old can prove it wrong, feel free."

"It's not a very good fake, then." I didn't dare look up. I didn't know how much time was left, Dad hadn't gotten a call-until now, that is. The pink phone rang after I said that.

"It's a fake. The painting's a fake, that's why Woodbridge and Cairns were killed, it's a fake." The hostage didn't say anything. "Oh, come on, proving it's just a detail!" He was going to have to prove it-I had to figure it out, and quick. "The painting is a fake, I've solved it, I've figured it out! It's a fake, that's the answer! That's why they were killed!" Still nothing. I brought up the article, and looked it over-this was it. This is was it, it had to be. I looked back at the painting, as Dad declared that he would prove it. "Give me time. Will you give me time?"

_"Ten." _Oh God. Oh dear God, just a kid, just a bloody _kid._

Dad grabbed the phone from my hand, and I pointed out the flaw on the painting, my eyes welling up with tears.

"The Van Buren supernova!" Dad yelled it into the pink phone, as I typed it into his website, taking out his own phone. The countdown stopped.

_"Please, is somebody there? Somebody help me!" _Dad handed the pink phone to Lestrade, and Dad turned back to me, grabbing my face. He smiled softly, kissing my head.

"You were stunning. Absolutely stunning, Charlotte, thank you." I nodded, and turned to John and the curator.

"The Van Buren supernova. Exploding star, only appeared in the sky in 1858. So tell me-how could it have been painted in the 1640s?" I let out a breath after I said that, and followed Dad out the door.

* * *

I laid across the couch, watching Dad yell at the telly. "No, no, of course he's not the boy's father, look at the turn-ups on his jeans!" I burst out laughing, curling up there. Dad shot me a look.

"I told you it was dangerous, John!" I laughed out. I still couldn't stop. "But getting Dad into crap telly-best decision you've made this week. It's hilarious!"

"Not a patch on Connie Prince." I giggled once more, and let out a sigh, sitting up. Dad was smirking.

"Did you give the memory stick back to your brother yet?" John asked, from his spot in front of his laptop.

"Yep-he was over the moon. Threatened me with knighthood again." I rolled my eyes. "You'd love it, wouldn't you, Charlotte?"

"Oh, no, I'd loath it. You? Knighthood? God no." I shook my head. "Not a good idea at all. Uncle's mad."

"You know, I'm still waiting." John said, and Dad hummed. "For you to admit that a little knowledge of the solar system, and you would have solved that case, not Charlie."

"Didn't do you any good, did it, John? Besides, I'm the history nut-it's in my job description."

"But you're not the world's only consulting detective, and neither am I." John had me there. I nodded, and so did Dad.

"True." The doorbell went off, and I got up, grabbing my bag. "Have fun-not out too late, I hope."

"No, Dad, just a little move night at Dani's. There's that risotto in the fridge, and, um...milk. We need milk."

"I'll get it, don't worry about it." I turned as I went to walk out the door, pulling my hair back.

"And beans?" Dad nodded, smiling. "All right. See you later."

"Bye, Charlie." I waved at John, and Dad turned back to the telly. I smirked, and headed down the stairs, opening up the door to find Dani and Quinn, both with devilish grins on their faces.

"Your first task. This is going to be one hell of a night, eh, Dani?" Quinn turned to Dani, as I shut the door behind me, calling for a taxi. Dani looked as if she was dreading this.

"Oh yes-one hell of a night."

* * *

This was harder than I thought-this was too hard, but why? _Why_ was it so hard? This boy had done enough damage, he was getting what he deserved, so why was it so hard to knock on his door?

"Wondering why it's so hard?" My eyes went wide. I recognized that voice. It was soft, it was almost nice, but I didn't like that he knew what I was doing. I didn't like it one bit. "Maybe it's because you sort of like him, despite it all."

"You don't know anything. You don't know a thing, don't go acting like you-" I grabbed the guy's arms, as they wrapped around my throat, choking me.

"Oh, but I do-I know all about it. He's one of my most favorite toys, like you, and your father." He came around now, examining my face. He was dressed properly now-in a suit, nice shoes. Still looked pretty gay, though. "You're beautiful. It's a shame he has to ruin that." My eyes went even wider, I struggled harder, and I managed to kick the guy in his weak spot, sending him down.

I turned to run, only to find my biggest fear standing in front of me. His grin could put the Devil's to shame.

"'Ello, luve. Miss me?"

* * *

"Good! Very good-only, I have something else of yours." I winced, as I was shoved into the room-the bruises were forming quickly, very quickly, and this stupid vest wasn't helping. "So glad you could join us, Charlie." John turned, and spotted me. Dad's eyes went wide slightly, but then he returned to normal, trying his best to remain calm. John let go of Moriarty, backing away, with his hands up. Moriarty wiped his jacket, gesturing to the suit. "Westwood." He paused briefly. "Do you know what happens, if you don't leave me alone, Sherlock, to you?"

"Oh, let me guess, you're going to kill me."

"Kill you? No, don't be obvious. I am going to kill you, someday, but I don't want to rush it. I'm saving it up for something special. No, no, no, no." Moriarty glanced at me, and then back at Dad, smirking. "If you don't stop prying, I will burn you. I will burn...the _heart _out of you." He paused, glancing at me once more, looking over his handiwork. "In fact? I think I might have already done that."

"I have been reliably informed that I don't have one." Moriarty turned back to Dad, with a frown on his face.

"Oh, but...then where does that leave your daughter? Where does that leave Charlie, Sherlock?" Dad paused. He glanced at me, and then back at Moriarty, keeping a steady hand while holding that gun. "We all know that's not quite true, is it?" Moriarty paused. "Well, I'd better be off. It was so nice to have had a proper chat."

"What if I was to shoot you now, right now?"

"Then you could cherish the look of surprise on my face. Because I'd be surprised, Sherlock, really I would. And just a teensy bit...disappointed. And of course you wouldn't be able to cherish it for very long. Ciao, Sherlock Holmes." Moriarty went to walk out a door, past John. Dad turned, continuing to point his gun at him.

"Catch you..." Dad trailed off, and Moriarty opened the door, "later."

"No you won't!" Moriarty said it in a sing-song voice, closing the door behind him. Dad waited, but then set down the gun. John let out a breath, and I fell to the floor, exhausted. I was sure I had broken bones, maybe plenty, I don't even know. I just hurt. All over, and I wanted to see that boy beaten to death. I really, _really_ did. Dad ran over, sitting me upright, and John followed. Dad got the vest off, and tossed it away. I was practically a rag doll, about to pass out.

"Charlotte, look at me. Look at me." I could barely see him through my blurry eyes-I think I might have had another concussion. "Who did this." I started to cough, and buried my face in my elbow-when I pulled it away, there was blood on my sweatshirt. "Who did this, Charlotte, tell me."

"Terry." John took the gun off of Dad, searching the place. I managed to pick my head up, so it didn't loll about, setting it on his shoulder. "He-he was watching me, at school, and-and I told him to back off, but he wouldn't listen to me. He-he tried to take me-" Dad shushed me, and I could barely even breath-fractured ribs, maybe even broken. "I'm sorry. I lied about the movie night."

"I know. It's fine." Dad's eyes went wide, when another red dot was pointed at my head. I clenched my fists, fighting the urge to scream. "No, no..."

"Sorry, guys! I'm soooooo changeable! It is a weakness with me, but to be fair to myself, it is my _only_ weakness. You can't be allowed to continue. You just can't. I would try to convince you, but everything I have to say has already crossed your mind."

"Probably my answer has crossed yours." As Dad said that, John pointed the gun at Moriarty, and Dad let me go, turning to face him. John slowly pointed the gun at the explosives, and my eyes went wide.

A phone went off. A song-Stayin' Alive. I loved the tune, but where the hell was it coming from?

"Do you mind if I get that?" Oh. Moriarty's phone-well now I'll hate that song. Great.

"Oh, go ahead, please. You've got the rest of your life." Moriarty pulled his phone out of his pocket, answering the call.

"Hello?" He paused, rolling his eyes. "Yes, of course it is, what do you want?" He mouthed an apology at Dad, who mouthed an excuse back. Moriarty twirled in a circle for a moment, and then spun around. I flinched when he did, shutting my eyes at the sound of his shout. "SAY THAT AGAIN! Say that again, and know that if you're lying to me, I will find you, and I will skiiiiiiiiiiiiiin you." He paused once more. "Wait." Moriarty put the phone on hold, and walked forward slowly, until he was right in front of the explosives. He didn't dare look at Dad. "Sorry. Wrong day to die." He looked at Dad finally, who shook his head.

"No. Did you get a better offer?" Moriarty made a face, glancing at his phone, and then back up at Dad.

"You'll be hearing from me, Sherlock." Moriarty walked away, putting the phone back to his ear. "So if you have what you say you have, I will make you rich. If you don't, I'll make you into shoes." And with a snap of his fingers, the snipers were off of us, and Dad could see to me again.

"What was that?" I asked, fighting the urge to cough again.

"Someone changed his mind. John, call Lestrade, and tell him to bring an ambulance." John went to do that, and I stared down at my hands-they were the only parts of my body not damaged by that damn boy. "Charlotte, I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault Dad. It's his." And I couldn't wait to see him punished for it.


End file.
